


At the End of His Rope

by The_Chronic_Cryptid



Series: Lifeline [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author hurts Zuko for later fluff reasons, Ever - Freeform, Fire Benders shouldn't be on wooden ships, Fluff in a thin coat of angst wrapped in a rope, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Ozai's A+ Parenting, Parental Hakoda (Avatar), Prisoner Zuko (Avatar), Touch-Starved Zuko (Avatar), Water Tribe Zuko (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar) Gets a Hug, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, accidental injury, dadkoda, slow burn adoption, some mentions of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 57,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Chronic_Cryptid/pseuds/The_Chronic_Cryptid
Summary: In the aftermath of the siege of the North Pole, Prince Zuko winds up adrift and is "rescued" by the warriors of the Southern Water Tribe.  Trapped on a wooden ship in the middle of the ocean, Zuko tries his hardest to stay in control of his bending and his temper with the Water Tribe crew that holds him captive. But when Chief Hakoda's efforts to wrangle the Fire Prince include tying the two of them together to keep an eye on him, Zuko's position on the ship and fight for control gets tangled, as the lines between warden and parental figure weave together and the two become attached in ways they never expected at the end of his rope.
Relationships: Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Lifeline [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128425
Comments: 1286
Kudos: 1291





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
> It's been a hot second. Grad school hit hard these last couple of months and I had to cut back on my writing. But this has been in the works for a while now and I couldn't wait anymore to start releasing it out. I'm taking a little bit of a Harry Potter palate cleanser and trying something new. I don't usually post fics before they're complete, but this story is taking on a life of its own...So, you'll get to be on the adventure with me! I'm definitely open to suggestions as to where it should go.  
> I hope you all enjoy and it brings you some joy in these crazy covid times (and that no one is too disappointed in its distinct lack of Harry and Draco 😉) 💚  
> As always, please don't copy or translate without my permission.

“Chief, the fire brat got loose again,” a voice called down from the deck, followed by the scuffle of footsteps pounding across the wood boards. Hakoda groaned. He rubbed his temples and pushed himself to his feet. The small figure they’d found floating in the icy water only a week before caused massive, headache-inducing amounts of trouble.

No one had been injured, beyond a few scrapes or bruises and wounded prides from being incapacitated by a near-child. Nothing had been damaged either. But no matter where Prince Zuko was kept, he managed to slip out. Forcing the crew to tear the ship apart to find him and wasting valuable time on the searches.

Hakoda slammed his office door open. His eyes tore through the narrow passage below the deck, casting through the shadows for any signs of the brat. But the hall was empty. He stormed down the passage, into the crew's quarters. Pushing hammocks aside in his wake, Hakoda swept through the cluttered room. One of his boots connected with a pile of bed furs. A low, stifled grunt carrying to his ears.

Smirking, Hakoda kicked the blankets aside to reveal the crumpled form of Prince Zuko. The boy glowered, amber eyes boring into Hakoda’s own blue ones. He shuffled back against the wall, craning his neck to meet the chief’s gaze. His pale chin jutted upward, rebellious even from his position on the floor.

“One of your best hiding spots yet, brat. I’m almost impressed. On your feet.”  
Zuko shook his head, “It wasn’t a request, your prickliness. On your feet, now before you force my hand.” The fair-skinned boy cocked his head to the side. His lips pressed into a thin line. He seemed to weigh his options, but neither were particularly favorable. Before he could make a decision Hakoda’s warm, roughened hands gripped his forearms.

The fire brat thrashed against Hakoda’s hold, but he was still on the mend from spending days out in icy temperatures. His struggles were weak, ineffectual against the chief’s grip. Hakoda waited for the boy to wear himself out, collapsing into the crook of his arm, “There. Are you quite through?”  
Zuko heaved ragged breaths, beads of sweat framing the puckered burn on his face. He didn’t speak, but sagged deeper into the chief’s arms as an answer, “Good choice, brat.” It wasn’t much of a choice. He still breathed heavily.

“I’ll walk.” He put a hand on Hakoda’s arm. The man barked a laugh, shaking his head. Even if the boy could stand, he saw no reason to nurse the brat’s wounded pride. While the fire brat was attached to him, he couldn’t run off. Hakoda thought everyone could use a break from that.

“No, I don’t think you will.” Hakoda climbed the steps back up onto the deck with the Fire Nation’s prince cradled in his arms, “Call off the search,” He bellowed, “The brat’s with me.” The chief felt the bundle in his arms stiffen under the gazes of the crew. Some of the crew returned to their posts, but the others drifted toward their chief and the ship’s unruly prisoner. Months at sea left little in the way of amusement. The presence and upsets of the fire brat offered a break from monotony.

“Let me down,” Zuko ordered through gritted teeth. His fingers gripping the thick, blue material of the chief’s sleeve. Hakoda snorted. He ignored the boy, resisting the urge to knock him out with a swift blow to the back of the brat’s head.

“Think you should listen to the royal pain, Chief. Let him down right off the side of the ship!” Chuckles rang out from the men, making Zuko’s head pound harder. His fingers twitched against the thick material of the chief’s coat. They pulsed like his muscles were straining to contain something, something building inside him.

Hakoda’s cool gaze settled back on the boy, waiting for him to lash out again. The brat gritted his teeth together, features scrunched. He muttered something too low for the chief to pick up below the roar of the crew, over and over again the boy’s lips moved. His eyes blazed in wild energy, barely contained. A layer of sweat glistened across the pale boy’s skin. Something was wrong.

“What’s the matter?” Hakoda asked, but the boy didn’t seem to register the question. His focus solely on his mutterings. He gripped tighter and tighter to the chief’s coat, hiding his face from the rest of the men. Frozen, Hakoda resisted the sudden urge to cradle the boy closer. He supposed it was a fatherly reflex to shelter him, even if the brat was a fire spawn, he was still a child. Not much older than the chief’s own kids.

The rowdiness of the crew reached a new peak, the younger crew members shoving each other into a stack of crates and knocking them to the deck with a resounding crack.

Prince Zuko’s frantic fight for control shattered with the crates against the deck. His fingers pulsed again, heat spreading from his hands before the boy could contain it. Fire licked off his fingertips. It sparked against the chief’s coat and set it aflame. Everyone’s mouths fell open, Zuko’s being no exception. Hakoda caught the prince’s wide eyes in the moments before he dropped him to the deck.

Hakoda peeled his coat off, stamping the singed sleeve out on the deck. His eyes locked on Zuko. The boy scrambled to his feet, darting away in the cover of the scuffle left in his wake by the flames. Shaking his head, the chief surveyed the damage. Hakoda slid his coat back on and set the rest of the crew back to their positions before he set off after Zuko. What was he going to do with that fire brat?

The crew’s suggestion to toss him wasn’t beginning to sound half-bad.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda goes looking for the fire brat, but what he finds surprises him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,  
> Here's the next chapter! Hope you all enjoy it. I love reading comments to know what people think. 💚

It was nearly dark by the time Hakoda spotted the glint of amber eyes from beneath one of the overturned canoes. He rolled his eyes, approaching slowly. The sort of movements he reserved for hunting when he didn’t want to spook his prey.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself this time,” He offered softly. The boy froze, sliding further back from the outer edge of the canoe and out of reach. Hakoda held up his hands. He sat at a distance with his empty palms in clear view of the boy, “Escaping twice in the course of a few hours has to be a new record.”

“Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?” Zuko asked. His eyes fixed on the singed sleeve of Hakoda’s coat, “Throw me overboard like the crew said.”

The chief sighed. He massaged his temples.

“To be honest, I haven’t decided what to do with you. If I thought you’d intentionally tried to burn me, it would be different. But I haven’t seen you firebend once since you came on board. Before now that is,”

“That’s because I’m not an idiot. We’re on a wooden ship,” Zuko snapped. He clammed up again, sliding further back. 

“So, what happened back there?” The chief asked, choosing to ignore the outburst, one eyebrow raised. Zuko swallowed. He flushed, sliding forward enough to let his face be visible from beneath the tarp. Hakoda felt his gaze softening despite himself. The boy looked so small.

“Nothing, I just...I lost control.” Zuko hated to admit it, but it seemed best to be honest with the chief. He truly hadn’t meant to burn him, but the combination of not bending in over a week and the overwhelming clamor on the deck became too much. He’d begged the man to put him down, but Hakoda hadn’t listened, “Did I hurt you?” Hakoda’s eyes widened at the question. He shook his head.

“Just the coat.” The boy nodded from beneath the tarp, “Would you come out from under there, so we can have a proper conversation?” Zuko shook his head, “You’re not going to be thrown off the ship, brat. Come out from under there.” Zuko shook his head again, “Please?” The chief asked.

Zuko’s eyes widened. He slid further into the open, cautiously resting his back against the canoe, “Thank you.” Hakoda nodded, almost offering him a smile. Zuko sat stiffly, squirming uncomfortably out in the open, “Now, am I correct that asking to be let down was your way of trying to avoid burning me?” Zuko nodded slowly, “I appreciate the attempt, prickliness.” The chief fell silent for a moment before broaching the next question, “Is control something you often struggle with?”

Zuko bristled and shook his head quickly, “I’d like to clarify that even if the answer is yes, you won’t be thrown from the ship.” Zuko’s hands formed into fists on top of his knees, trembling white. His head bowed over them, not meeting the chief’s gaze any longer. 

“Never used to before I couldn’t bend all the time,” he muttered. The chief’s eyes widened, “It’s like a bucket of water that overflows when you can’t empty it out. Right now, I always feel like I’m at the brim.” The chief’s eyes grew wider still, “That’s why I…” He trailed off, faltered, and suddenly too aware of his surroundings. Aware of his audience and clamming up again.

“That’s why you’re always trying to escape from below deck, isn’t it?” After a long pause, Zuko nodded. If he lost control out in the open there was less damage he could cause than if he were below deck and enclosed. 

A silence fell between them, the last light filtering from the sun dipping below the horizon. Zuko shivered in his thin Fire Nation gear. Far too thin for the cold of the North Pole, even as they traveled further and further away from it. The chief’s gaze made him shiver more, “We need to get you back below.” Zuko frowned. He backed into the canoe, head cracking into the wooden frame, “We will continue to discuss arrangements, but you can’t stay out here dressed like that.”

Zuko’s vision swam from the blow to his head. He opened his mouth to protest, but the chief cut him off, “A sick firebender can’t control his bending, Prince Zuko. If you truly wish to show you mean no harm to this ship then come below.” The chief pushed himself to his feet. He held a hand out to the prince, who flinched like he expected something much different to come from the gesture. But no slap came. 

Zuko frowned, his better eye fixed on Hakoda. Ignoring the proffered hand, and using the canoe behind to balance himself as he scrambled back to his feet. He walked for three steps in front of the Southern Water Tribe Chief before passing out. The chief caught him before he could hit the deck. 

Slinging the boy into his arms, he carried him back to the infirmary below. He examined what must have been Zuko’s handiwork of scrapes around the lock on the door, from the latest escape attempt. 

“Where’d you find him this time, Chief?” Bato leaned against the door frame, fingers tracing the grooves from Zuko’s inexperienced but apparently effective lockpicking. The chief’s second glanced coolly at the boy in Hakoda’s arms.

“Under one of the fishing canoes. Brat got scared I was actually going to throw him over for burning me.”

“You’re not?” Bato crossed his arms.

“No. He got overwhelmed and lost control, I’m not going to punish him for that.” Hakoda found himself holding Zuko a little tighter, while Bato watched with disgust.

“It’s his own fault he was up on the deck in the first place, Chief.” Bato reminded him.

“Only because he’s apparently been trying to stop himself from burning the ship down this whole time.”

“So he says, no telling what a fire brat wouldn’t lie about.”

“I believe him, Bato.”

“Why?”

“I saw his eyes right after it happened. There wasn’t any malice there, just a scared kid. And what do kids do when they’re scared? They run and they hide.” Bato sniffed. He shrugged.

“And what do you suggest to do with your pet firebender that you’re so insistent on keeping, Hakoda? He doesn’t stay put ,and we don’t have the manpower to waste on supervising him. It’s not like we can just let him go wandering around unattended, any more than you can put him on a leash.”

Hakoda frowned, watching Bato storm away before he returned his attention to the boy in his arms. He settled Zuko down on one of the beds, tucking the bed furs up around his small frame before propping a chair up against the door to seal him inside. The two of them had a talk to finish when Zuko was awake again. Sighing, Hakoda settled into the uncomfortable chair to mull over the bafflement that was Prince Zuko. 

It would be a long night. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is sick of tracking down the fire brat, so Hakoda wants to come to some kind of understanding. Zuko can't wrap his head around that concept...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I've been loving reading all your comments and watching the hits go up, so thank you all. I probably should have tagged this slow-burn 😅, but we're getting there. I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! 💚

Zuko’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned, holding his head in his heads. Someone pushed a waterskin in front of his mouth and tipped it upward before he could protest it. He growled but swallowed down a few gulps of the water before he managed to wriggle away from the skin. He swiped his wrist across his mouth, looking up to glare at Hakoda. 

“Good morning to you too, your prickliness.” Hakoda snorted, “Now that you’re awake, I believe I promised you a continued conversation regarding your current situation.”

“You mean now that you’ve waterboarded me?” Zuko groused. He pushed himself into a sitting position, cradling his head in his hands. The chief snorted. He readjusted to sit in front of the door again, “So, what are you going to do with me?” Zuko scowled at the man who blocked his escape route.

“Not interested in pleasantries this morning, I see. Very well, Prince Zuko, what do you propose I do with you?” Zuko’s scowl fell. His eyes widened as he processed the question. He scowled again, shaking his head.

“What does it matter?” The boy asked into his hands, massaging his throbbing temples. He accepted the waterskin when the chief offered it. 

“Slow sips. That’s it, brat,” Hakoda said, his tone gentle. He leaned forward, but the boy shuffled backward on the bed out of reach with a glare. Sighing, Hakoda sat back to give the prince some room, “Now, what does what matter?” Zuko pulled the waterskin away from his mouth, twisting it closed. He tossed the skin back to the chief. Hands clasped on his knees, he muttered,

“What does it matter what I think?” Zuko flopped down on his pillow. He gave up royal appearances, turning on his side to stare at the Water Tribe Chief. Hakoda’s gaze softened. 

The boy looked small and out of his element. And truth be told, they were both out of their natural elements.

“That’s typically how a discussion works. It’s the ideas of two people.” He leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard, “So, I’d like to hear your ideas too.” Zuko pushed himself up, he gripped the pillow. His fingers clenching around the material.

“But this is your ship and I’m a prisoner.” Prisoners didn’t get to have ideas in the Fire Nation and they certainly didn’t get to have discussions or negotiate the terms of their captivity. Zuko couldn’t begin to wrap his pounding head around the concept. He only managed to resist burying his head in the soft material of the pillow.

“Both true, prickliness, but humor me, please?” Zuko shook his head. His fingers flexing. The movements small, nearly imperceptible, but catching the eye of the Water Tribe Chief all the same. Hakoda cleared his throat, “How full is your bucket?” He asked. Zuko froze at the sound of his own words reflected back in the chief’s voice, his slick fingers tensed again from the efforts of keeping the fire at bay. 

He shrugged, “About to spill over, perhaps?” The chief prompted with one of his eyebrows raised.

“I can control it.” Zuko shot back. Heat rose up in his fingers with the rising anger that brewed from somewhere deep inside him.

“That wasn’t what I asked. How full is your bucket, Prince Zuko?” Zuko pulled his knees into his chest, pressing his face deeply into the thin material of his pants. To his horror, the heat spreading through him prickled behind his eyes. Hot tears blurred his vision and threatened to spill down over his cheeks.

“At the brim,” He choked out, bringing his watery gaze up to meet the chief’s.

“Let’s take this chat up on deck, then.” Zuko shook his head, angrily wiping at his tears, “No one else is going to be around if that’s what you’re afraid of. It’s still too early for most of the crew to be up and about. Now, are you walking this time, or am I carrying you?” 

Zuko scrambled to his feet. He fell into step with Chief Hakoda as they left the infirmary, heading up toward the deck, “Stay where I can see you,” Hakoda ordered as they stepped onto the deck. The chill settling over them. It crossed the prince’s mind to bolt again, knowing he’d be able to tuck himself away somewhere that could take Hakoda hours to find.

But he forced himself to obey, keeping under the chief’s cool gaze. It was silent for several minutes between them, the low groans of the ship, and the lapping of waves lulling Zuko. He sighed, wiped away the remains of his tears, and slid to the floor of the deck with his back against a crate. His fingers tracing the grooves in the wood, “Better?” The chief asked. Zuko nodded. He still felt at the brim, but less like the bucket was seconds away from spilling over. The prince watched Hakoda take a seat across from him, with more than an arm’s reach between them, “Good, now back to our earlier topic, what to do with a fire prince on a wooden ship?”

“You forgot the word prisoner in there somewhere,” Zuko muttered. He held out a tentative hand for the waterskin, took a small sip when it was offered, then gripped it in his hands. The chief shrugged.

“I suppose I did. Keeping you locked below appears to be ineffective, not to mention a fire hazard, but you can’t be allowed to wander freely either.” The boy frowned.

“I won’t escape anymore. I’ll keep myself under control. You can-” The man cut him off, shaking his head. Hakoda nodded at the waterskin clutched in the Prince’s fingers. 

“Take another drink, you’re getting yourself worked up again.” Zuko shook his head. He couldn’t, “It’s not empty is it? I just filled it an hour ago.” Zuko shook his head again. Forcing his shaking fingers to cooperate, he twisted the spout to reveal a thick plume of steam. The heat in his fingers had transferred into the waterskin, boiling it. He felt drained, his overflowing energy channeled into something, “You didn’t intend to do that, did you?”

Zuko shook his head. The Prince scrambled to his feet. He swayed and lolled back into the crates behind him, sagging heavily. Beneath hooded eyes, he caught sight of the chief moving toward him. But he couldn’t make himself yank away. His arms and legs wouldn’t cooperate in any sort of coordinated movement to let him slip away, “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you, prickliness. You can barely keep yourself upright, just let me help, please.”

The prince fell still. He opened his mouth to reply, but his words were lost beneath the pounding of boots against the wood approaching. Zuko’s eyes went wide, glancing around for an escape route. He glanced between the chief and the direction of the approaching clamor, “Don’t even think about it, brat.” The footsteps were closer, too close to put much of any distance between him and the approaching crew. 

Instead, he slipped himself behind the chief. Hakoda’s larger frame sheltered him from the onslaught of the crew. His fingers twisted into the singed sleeve of the chief’s jacket. The man twisted to catch Zuko’s eye, “I prefer this to you running off, but try to avoid singeing me this time.”

“Chief, the brat got out again. No one has any idea where he’s gone off to,” Hakoda rolled his eyes. He leaned to the side enough for Zuko to be visible behind him. The boy glowered, his fingers tightening on Hakoda’s coat again.

“Any idea where you’ve gone off to, your prickliness?” Zuko didn’t answer, “Call off the search, I brought him up to get some air. We’re fine here.” Bato shook his head. He turned away.

“I still think the brat needs a leash,” Bato called behind him, storming back below. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda implements his solution for keeping Zuko under control, much to Zuko's disdain and distress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cautiously going to say trigger warning for the depiction of tying someone up. I tried to make it fairly clear what this was about from the story's synopsis and title, but I don't want there to be any surprises either.

A coil of rope thudded down on the infirmary table, making Zuko jump. The teen’s amber eyes glancing at it warily, before his gaze came to rest on the chief.

“What’s that for?” He asked. Zuko watched the chief sit on the edge of the bed. Warm, roughened hands worked one of the rope’s ends into a loop with a knot. Sliding back, Zuko glanced at the door. But the chief had locked it and he’d have no chance to pick it with the man watching over him. It took too long. Not to mention the man was stronger than him. 

“A solution. It wasn’t as if you’ve offered any suggestions of your own, prickliness.” Hakoda’s tone held a warning and a hint of hesitation. Whatever the rope led to wasn’t going to be pleasant. Zuko’s eyes were wild. He scrambled backward on the bed until his head collided with the wall. 

“So, you’re just going to kill me?” Hakoda’s features widened in bewilderment, staring from Zuko to the rope in his lap. His eyes went wider in sudden realization at the source of the fire prince's misunderstanding.

“Oh no, that’s not what this is for.” Zuko’s posture softened for a fraction of a second before he tensed again and growled.

“What are you going to do with it, then?” Hakoda held up a finger, focusing on the knots in front of him. Zuko fumed silently, watching a loop form on the other side of the rope as well, “My bucket is filling.” He said, with no heat or bite behind it. 

“Almost finished,” The chief offered softly. He tugged on one of the knots, dressing it tighter and nodding, “There. Come over here, please.” Zuko shook his head. He backed himself into the corner, the furthest point from the chief. 

“Not until you tell me what it’s for,” Zuko snapped. The chief sighed at the teen.

“You do realize I can come over there, correct?” Zuko nodded. He wasn’t an idiot, he was well aware he was only stalling the inevitable, “Zuko, please.” Eyes wide, Zuko’s head snapped up at the sound of his name without the title in front of it. It should have made him angry, but it didn’t. There was something almost comforting and familiar in the way Hakoda used his name. Knowing he’d most likely come to regret it, Zuko slipped off the bed and took the tentative steps forward to close the gap between them, “Thank you.”

Hakoda moved quickly, before Zuko could process what was happening, a loop on one of the ends had been settled around his waist and tightened. The prince frowned. He reached for the rope around his waist, but Hakoda’s hands pushed Zuko’s out of the way, “Leave it be.” The chief ordered. Zuko’s eyes narrowed, gaze following the path of the rope around his waist.

“It’s a leash,” He muttered, distaste evident in his pale features, “The joke your crew keeps making. That’s your solution?” Hakoda chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not exactly.” He picked up the other loop, sliding it over his own waist and securing it, “Or if it is a leash, we’re both on it. I prefer to think of it as a tether.” Scowling, Zuko’s hand drifted down to the loop around his waist again. He let his hands fall to his side, flinching under Hakoda’s warning gaze, “Not ideal, but this way you won’t be trapped below deck anymore and you’ll be properly supervised without wasting any manpower.”

“This is ridiculous,” Zuko snapped, “I can just untie the knots, or cut the rope, or burn it.”

“But you won’t.” Firm, gentle tones met Zuko’s rising distress. The prince fell silent, dropping back to the bed. He supposed if he intended on doing any of those things, he would have done it. Not just desperately announcing the possibilities to Hakoda. The Water Tribe Chief was right. Zuko wouldn’t be doing any of those things, “How’s that bucket of yours?”

Zuko shrugged, staring blankly ahead, “I think you do know. We’re going to be less than 15 strides apart for the foreseeable future. It would be best if you were honest about what you need, especially when you’re asked.”

“It’s at the brim, but going up on deck right now is only going to make it worse.” Any disturbances from the crew would be enough to send him over the edge, Zuko was sure. He had no desire to face any of them. Hakoda nodded, cracking the muscles along the base of his neck in a broad stretch.

“My cabin it is, then. You can get settled, rest some, and I’ve probably got an old waterskin laying around somewhere you can boil if you need to.” The prince’s head cocked to the side, “The infirmary was only meant to house you temporarily until a more permanent arrangement could be determined.” He gave the rope another tug, nearly sending an unprepared Zuko sprawling on the wooden floor.

Zuko bristled, “Come on, prickliness.” He stood and strode forward. The chief’s larger form won over Zuko’s slight resistance, half-dragging the numb boy from the room. With each step he took the realization sunk in deeper that any semblance of privacy or control he’d mustered in this tenuous arrangement was gone. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes again, but Zuko couldn’t bring himself to brush them away or even bother to hide them. He let them fall down his cheeks to drip somewhere on the coil of rope, disappearing into the rough fibers.

They walked in silence, the rope dragging on the floor between them, Hakoda at a loss for what to say to the broken teen. He opened the door to his cabin at the end of the passage and shepherd the prince inside to survey the cluttered room. 

Hakoda’s bed had been shoved hastily on an angle between two walls, leaving a large and nearly triangular gap in the corner. That gap was filled with pillows, blankets, bed furs, and all the other makings of a nest of sorts. Beneath the bed, Zuko could make out overfilled crates that bulged at their sides. Eyes narrowing, Zuko realized the crates were new additions to the room, designed to block his access out from under the bed. The chief intended for Zuko to sleep in that nest in the corner, allowing himself to be blocked in at all angles. 

He shook his head, backing away from the chief until the rope strained. The fibers cut into his side and made his teeth grit, “You’re hurting yourself and me. Stop it.” Zuko’s eyes widened, falling still. He took a few steps toward the chief. The rope thudded against the deck floor. Amber eyes followed the chief as he leaned over to search a chest, emerging moments later with a faded waterskin, “Ah, here we are.” He crossed the room to a jug, filling the old skin with water and sealing it off, “There you go, prickliness.” He tossed the skin to Zuko, who caught it on reflex, “Boil away.”

Zuko sat on the floor of the cabin, his back against the wall. He gripped the waterskin in his fingers, letting all the heat transfer into the water within. Sighing, he lolled and twisted the skin to let some of the steam drift out into the cabin. He breathed it in, more settled than before, “Better?” Hakoda asked. Zuko nodded. He sealed the skin shut before he could spill boiling water over himself, “Good. Come over here, please.” Zuko found himself obeying. 

He let himself be prodded over the side of the bed and into the nest, sinking down but arguing all the same.

“This is even more ridiculous than keeping me on a leash. I could smother you in your sleep or strangle you with this rope, or…” He fell silent under the chief’s stern gaze. Zuko gulped. His fingernails dug into the waterskin, threatening to burst it beneath their pressure.

“Are you through?” Zuko nodded. It was the same results of their earlier conversation about the rope. There were hundreds of things Zuko could do to escape or injure the Water Tribe Chief, but listing them off only seemed to prove he’d never follow through. It was pointless for either of them to pretend otherwise, “Good, I think we both need some rest.” 

The man stretched out on his bed, eyes closing.

“Wait, that’s it?” Hakoda groaned, he opened his eyes and turned on his side to meet the prince’s gaze, “Just sleep?”

“Were you expecting to be tucked in and a bedtime story?” The chief snorted as Zuko grunted, turned away from him, and fought the urge to bury his face beneath one of the pillows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this next installment. Let me know what you think, I've loved reading everyone's comments so far! Also, if anyone has tag recommendations I'm open to them, I couldn't think of one that seemed appropriate to this situation. Thanks for reading! 💚


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adjustment and some negotiations...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, these last couple weeks of school before break are hitting me pretty hard. So, I decided to do something nice and release a bonus chapter this week. It's not very long, but I hope you all enjoy it. 💚

Squirming against the rope, Zuko sat up. His fingers deftly slid one of the knots to adjust where it dug into his side, “Keep your hands off of the knots, brat,” Hakoda muttered, eyes still closed from sleep, “I feel it on my end too when you do that.” Zuko froze and dropped the rope.

“I was just-” Zuko’s protests were silenced.

“I know what you were doing,” The man sat up and patted a spot on the mattress beside him, “I’ll adjust them so it doesn’t bother you as much if you tell me where it’s hurting you.” Zuko shook his head.

“It doesn’t hurt,” He raised his chin at the man in a challenge, hating how in their current position the chief towered over him. Rolling his eyes, the chief patted the spot again and waited for the teen to move. But he remained stubbornly in place with his back against the wall. Hakoda rubbed his temples.

“So, am I to understand you woke me up for no good reason, then?” The chief asked. Zuko’s eyes widened in horror. He shook his head, “Remember what I said before about being honest about your needs?” Zuko nodded, his head cocked. “Being in pain or uncomfortable enough that you cannot sleep is a need that requires addressing.” Zuko unfolded himself from the nest and gingerly climbed up onto the mattress. Sitting far enough away to dive quickly back into the nest, but close enough for Hakoda to reach the rope.

“It’s digging into my hip,” Zuko pointed to the spot where the rope cut into the thinner material of his trousers. Hakoda nodded, he deftly worked the knots refashioning the one on Zuko to sit slightly looser and more in front of his hip than on the side, “I’m sorry for waking you up,” Zuko whispered more to his knees than the chief. Hakoda started, he turned back to the teen, seeing tension building in soft shivers through his muscles. 

“I’m sorry we’re in this situation, prickliness,” Zuko pressed his lips together, not daring to respond, “Is that better?” The man asked. He gave the rope a tug to finish his adjustments. The motion caught Zuko off guard. He snapped backward in reaction, the overcorrection sending him sprawling off the edge of the bed and into his nest with a yelp. The prince emerged from the pile of furs and pillows flushing redder than flames, his fingers tightening to fists at the sound of a low chuckle from Hakoda’s mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he ordered, making the man double-over laughing harder, “it isn’t funny.” Zuko was ashamed to hear the beginnings of something sounding like whining creeping into his tone, but he supposed his pride didn’t have further to fall that it had already plummeted. He crossed his arms and sulked, waiting for the man to stop. When the man finally settled enough to turn his attention to Zuko again, the boy announced, “If I’m not even allowed to touch the rope then you shouldn’t be allowed to yank on it like that.”

Hakoda’s eyebrows raised. Other than the usual prisoner sort of demands to be released on the first days following his rescue from the icy waters, Zuko had been rather passive about the whole arrangement of his imprisonment of the Water Tribe Ship. He made escape attempts, of course, but his intentions for those apparently weren’t to be defiant. The boy seemed to realize what he’d said at the same time as the chief, going pale and clapping his hand over his mouth. He slid his hand down, “I meant-”

“No, you’re right. I won’t pull on it anymore, not without warning you first. Anything else, prickliness?” Zuko sat up straighter, demonstrating his royal upbringing in the words that came out of his mouth next.

“I reserve the right to renegotiate the terms of this arrangement, upon a later time.” He sniffed and stifled a yawn behind his hand. 

“If I agree to that, can we go back to sleep?” Zuko nodded. He watched, eyes narrowing as the man reached a hand forward. The prince flinched backward, folding in on himself until he realized the gesture the chief was extending was nothing more than a handshake to seal the terms of their deal. Hakoda frowned, he stared between his hand and the teen, waiting for him to take it. Zuko gulped. He leaned forward, clasping one of his hands against the chief’s roughened palms, “Agreed. Now, did my adjustments fix that issue with the knot?”

Zuko gave his frame an experimental twist, not feeling the pinch of the rope against the bone. He nodded, “Good. Perhaps there’s still a chance for us to get some sleep tonight. Off my bed, your prickliness.” He yanked the blanket up from beneath Zuko, effectively toppling the boy back into the nest of pillows and furs. Hakoda paused, catching sight of an unreadable emotion on the prince’s face. But it was quickly schooled back to surliness. He rolled his eyes, dropping a spare blanket over the teen’s head, before settling back. 

“Thought you said you weren’t going to tuck me in,” Zuko muttered. He curled beneath the blanket and turned on his side to stare at the chief. Hakoda smirked.

“I suppose I did say that. Problem prickliness?” He asked, expecting another snappy response. Instead, the boy fell silent, he pressed his lips together. The chief rolled on his back. A sigh rolled off his lips. He didn’t like the way the prince flinched away from him like he was about to be hit. It wasn’t as if Hakoda and the others had been especially gentle with him, but nothing that could merit that sort of response. He didn’t like it in the slightest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, it was pretty short. But let me know what you think. Comments and kudos are the highlights of my week right now, so please feel free to leave some!💚


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko tests the boundaries of his new situation and Hakoda's patience, but he knows nothing good will come from going up on deck...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your amazing comments and responses to the story so far. You all brightened my week more than you will ever know. In return, I have for you a not so happy chapter... 😅

“You said you wouldn’t pull on the rope anymore,” Zuko snapped. He gripped the doorframe of the chief’s cabin and dug in his heels, his resistance worthless against Hakoda’s larger build. 

“No, I believe I said I wouldn’t pull on it without giving you a warning. You were given ample time to cooperate and walk on your own up to the deck, and warning of what would happen if you didn’t. I don’t know why you’re suddenly so hesitant to be up there.” Zuko’s nails gouged the wood grain in a last futile attempt to remain in the cabin, “You’ve been trying to get there for the better part of a week now.”

“That was before I was harnessed like a fire ferret at the circus,” The prince snarled. Snorting, Hakoda stopped to examine the boy’s face. His usually pale features were reddened by a flush, deeper than could be explained by his exertion alone. The teenager was embarrassed. He knew the crew was likely to find it amusing, but the spectacle would wear off quickly. Changing his tactics, he stopped and leaned against the wall. 

“If you’re a fire ferret, what does that make me?” Zuko shrugged. He let his fingers slide against the doorframe, softening his grip as the chief stopped pulling, “I’ve always liked polar bear dogs, myself. I’ll be one of those.” The boy’s fingers flexed against the wood, his amber eyes widening. Hakoda noticed the expression and tossed him the old waterskin, “Here. I imagine you’ll be needing this.” Zuko caught it, not meeting the man’s gaze, “Trust me, prickliness. They’ll laugh, but it won't be at you.”

“Isn’t that insubordination?” The chief shrugged.

“I like to cultivate a healthy amount of camaraderie among the crew. If it takes allowing some insubordination to achieve that, so be it.” He raised an eyebrow at the fire prince, “Also, I don’t know if you’re really in a position to be asking me questions about insubordination at the moment.” Zuko winced, “I have responsibilities on deck. This new arrangement doesn’t change that. I’m giving you one last chance to cooperate on your own accord before there are consequences for your actions.” Zuko’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean?” The chief rubbed his temples. Instead of answering, he reached down to the rope that dangled between them. Hakoda lifted a section of rope into his hands and knotted it off. The length between them shrunk by three paces. Zuko frowned. He stepped backward until the rope strained, “What-” Hakoda grabbed the rope, twisting it again. The next knot left an even shorter distance between them of less than ten steps, “Stop,” He strained against the rope.

“Natural consequences of not listening to me the first time. Do I need to continue, or will you cooperate?” Zuko bit his lip. He took a half-step forward, faltering. Sighing, he drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. Gritting his teeth, he closed the distance between himself and the chief. The rope thudded on the floor, “Best behavior, fire ferret.” He warned. 

Hakoda directed Zuko out of the cabin, striding down the passageway to the narrow set of steps. With more hesitation, Zuko clambered up the steps and up through the hatch onto the deck. He squinted in the brilliant light, after spending too long in the dim cabin. Zuko breathed out a rush of air, his breath forming a soft cloud of fog in front of him. His stomach churned like the waves deep beneath the ship.

“Fire brat’s on the deck again,” A rough voice called out. Footsteps scuffed against the deck boards, heading toward him. It made Zuko forget the rope around his waist and stumble backward when he reached the limits of its length. Hakoda’s arms steadied him back to his feet. Zuko felt the man give his shoulders a soft squeeze before releasing him again, “Wait, Chief, is that what I think it is?” 

The rough voice called out. Zuko stiffened. His fingers tightened into fists at his sides, “The fire brat’s been leashed.” Snickers raised through the crew, making Zuko bristle.

“So has the chief,” Someone else piped up, laughter echoed through the rest of the crew. The prince almost forgotten in the uproar of amusement. Hakoda shook his head, giving Zuko a knowing wink, before he turned his attention back to the crew. With a good-natured smile, he crossed his arms.

“Have your fill, you lot. But this way I don’t have to listen to the whining about having to search the ship.”

“Is that even safe?” Another voice piped up. Hakoda rolled his eyes. No. He supposed it wasn’t. But it wasn’t safe for the hot-tempered teen who practically breathed fire to be on a wooden ship, either. Especially with as much as he was worth to the Fire Nation. It came with great risks, but Prince Zuko was on their ship now and he wouldn’t be going anywhere for the time being. 

“Safer than you’re all about to be if you don’t return to your stations,” He barked. Men nodded, their crowd dispersing. Glancing down at Zuko, he raised an eyebrow, “Didn’t I say it wasn’t you they’d be paying attention to?”

“Whatever,” Zuko mumbled, kicking at the rope with the toe of his shoe. Hakoda snorted, resisting the urge to tousle the boy’s hair. He was still on edge and was likely to singe Hakoda, even if it wasn’t on purpose, “Don’t you have things to do up here?” He asked. The chief nodded. He craned his neck in the direction of the back of the ship and began to walk. Zuko fell into step behind him. The waterskin straining against his fingers. 

“Right, prickliness, stay close.” He heard the boy scoff. But followed, even walking beside him until they came across other crew members, then the prince slipped behind him again. 

The rope tensed behind Hakoda. A sickening thud carrying to his ears. He whirled around, seeing Zuko face down against the deck. The boy curled in on himself like a wisp of smoke. He hid his face in his hands, a soft groan barely audible. Bright crimson poked through his fingers. Hakoda crouched down, “Let me see, Zuko.” 

“Not here,” The muffled reply came.

“Fine, I’ll take you back below.” Zuko stiffened, but allowed himself to be lifted off the deck and hefted into the chief’s larger arms. Hakoda turned his stern gaze back on the passing crew, “What happened?”

“Brat must have tripped himself up on it.” Low murmurs of agreement traveled through the small group. Eyes narrowing, Hakoda's tone turned icy. Zuko shivered. He buried himself into the man’s coat, glad the chief’s intensity wasn’t focused on him.

“Don’t forget the rope is also attached to me. I can feel whoever stepped on the rope was much heavier than Prince Zuko. Regardless of whether it was intentional or not, it had better not happen again.”

He cradled Zuko closer and stormed back below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys and do my best to respond to every comment, so let me know what you think. I'm entering my last two weeks of school with several projects still looming, so you may get some extra chapters thrown in at weird times as I reward myself for completing things! 💚💚💚


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda cleans Zuko's cut, with the prince's reluctant compliance to accept the help. He distracts the boy with a conversation and their discussions reveal some assumptions, of which not all are correct or corrected. Zuko falls asleep and reveals more than he means to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,   
> I submitted the second to last draft of my research paper yesterday afternoon (very exciting stuff...I know), so as promised to reward myself here is the next chapter! I apologize in advance if you see random facts about sign language thrown in there 😅. I hope you all enjoy it! 💚

“Right, let’s see that face.” He set Zuko down on the bed, peeling his pale hands away from his face. Blood pooled from a deep gash across his forehead, “Aren’t you a sight? I’ll clean the blood and see what we’re working with.” Zuko swallowed, his bloody fingers interlocked on his lap. It stained the fibers of the rope with red splotches.

“I can clean it myself.” He reached for the rag, but Hakoda pulled away. Holding the damp rag at a distance, he examined the teen who was even paler than usual. The boy swayed softly. Hakoda sat down across from Zuko. The mattress dipped slightly between them and Zuko swayed more.

“I know you can, but humor a man who misses his own children.” Zuko gaped at the man, “I have a son who’s a few years older than you, but my daughter is twelve, almost thirteen. Right around your age?” Hakoda offered, the slight question in his tone. The prince grimaced. His hands locking against his knees. 

Zuko had suspected early on in his tumultuous arrival on the ship that his captors believed him younger than he was. It was now confirmed they’d come to the humiliating conclusion that Zuko wasn’t all that much older than the Avatar he was chasing. But their assumptions afforded him some greater security, so he swallowed his pride and didn’t correct it. He simply jerked his head in a quick nod, more blood spurting from the cut, “Right, stay still.”

The cloth gently passed over his face, Zuko shivered, “I know this isn’t easy for you, but thank you for letting me help you. You’re wound up at the moment and I’d hate for you to burn yourself again.” Zuko bristled. He caught Hakoda’s wrist in his hand and stared the man down. Heat flared in the boy’s bloody fingers, contained enough not to burn the chief. 

“That’s not what happened. I didn’t burn my own face. I’m not an idiot.” Hakoda’s eyes widened. He leaned down, peeling Zuko’s fingers off his wrist before the boy could lose control. Letting silence fall between them as he finished cleaning the boy’s face and bandaged it, “Aren’t you going to ask?” Zuko broke the silence as the chief stood to wring out the rag. Hakoda glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. He crossed back to the bed with a fresh rag, wiping the blood off Zuko’s hands.

“If I thought you’d answer I would, but I don’t think you will.” Hakoda watched the prince’s eyes glaze over, his thoughts far away from the ship. The man nodded. He stood to finish cleaning the blood before returning with his waterskin, pressing it to the boy’s hands, “Drink. Then I think a little rest is in order.” Zuko drank. He swiped the back of his wrist across his mouth.

“Not tired.” The prince swayed again, pushing the waterskin back toward the chief. He gripped the edge of the mattress.

“Of course not, but you’d be doing me a favor, fire ferret. I’ve got some charts to look over and my bed is the best place to spread them out.” Knowing the chief was lying to him when he had a desk in the room, Zuko signed and slid off the edge of the mattress anyway. He settled stiffly into the nest of blankets. The prince started when Hakoda leaned over to smooth one of the blankets over him. He adjusted the rope so it couldn’t tangle around Zuko in his sleep, “Just tucking you in. Or is that something else I’m not allowed to do, prickliness?”

Zuko shrugged. He settled deeper into the nest but turned on his side to watch the chief through half-hooded eyes. The man sat on the bed again with a stack of papers spread out in front of him. Pushing himself up, Zuko’s amber eyes caught sight of a map. He leaned forward to get a better look. But the chief shook his head, prodding the boy back down again and tucking the blankets tighter around him.

“Is missing your kids why you tuck me in?” Zuko asked, the slight haze of blood loss making him brazen. He picked at the trim of one of the blankets in the nest. The chief glanced up from his papers to catch Zuko’s amber gaze before it flitted away again. He cocked his head to the side, nodding after a moment.

“I suppose it is. But if you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” The prince didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything about it. His eyes drifted closed, pulled toward an uneasy sleep.

Lost in uneasy thoughts of his own, Hakoda almost missed the small reply in the quiet of the cabin,

“No.” Zuko’s answer was soft.

“No what?” The chief had forgotten his question already. Dealing with the Fire Nation’s Prince was decidedly exhausting. 

“You know,” he mumbled more to the pillows than Hakoda.

“Believe me, prickliness, if I knew I wouldn’t ask.”

“Tucking me in isn’t against the rules.” The chief’s eyes snapped open to stare at Zuko. Zuko’s eyes had drifted closed, just poking out beneath the trim of the blanket. Hakoda shook his head. Not believing what he was doing, he leaned over and smoothed the blanket around the boy before he returned to his papers.

* * *

Hakoda heard a low whimper beside him, glancing over from his papers he saw the prince thrashing in the blankets against the rope. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Desperate mutters echoed through the cabin, the prince’s dreams attacking him. Papers scattered to the sides in a tangle of the rope. Gingerly, Hakoda scooped Zuko into his arms and pinned him down to stop him from hurting himself, “Zuko wake up. You’re safe,” He called above the boy’s cries until he opened his eyes again and his eyes focused on the chief’s.

Sweat glistened on Zuko’s face, his ponytail clinging to the back of his neck, “It was just a dream, Zuko.” The boy shook his head, scrambling back into his nest and free of Hakoda’s hold. His back scraped the wall, “You’re safe.” He repeated to the boy, standing to retrieve both waterskins and holding them out to Zuko, “Take a drink, then you can boil if you need to.”

The chief stood again. He crossed the room to retrieve one of the rags, straining the rope’s distance between and wetting the rag with water from the jug before returning to his young charge, “For your face,” He explained, watching in surprise when the boy lifted his chin to allow the chief to wipe it for him. Hakoda bent down and wiped the tracks of tears off Zuko’s face, “If you want to discuss it, I’ll gladly listen. Sometimes dreams-”

“It wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Talking about it won’t make it any better.” Zuko glowered at his pale feet, “It was still real.”

“I did say if you wanted to discuss it, Zuko. You don’t have to. How about I tell you about something instead?” Zuko’s gaze flickered upward, “Have you ever heard of penguin sledding?” He shook his head, “Ah, well I imagine you wouldn’t have much occasion for it in the Fire Nation, but in the South Pole, it’s one of our young people’s favorite games. You have to catch an otter penguin and slide on its back.” Zuko snorted, “It’s a very serious sport, Zuko.” The chief said, pretending to be offended by his humor.

“How does that even work?” He asked, twisting the rope through his fingers in an absent way. Hakoda didn’t have the heart to scold him for it. 

“A bit of luck and usually some fish bribery to lure them to where you want them to go.” He shrugged. Zuko sat up a little straighter, the rope sliding out of his fingers, “Now my oldest, Sokka, when he was around five decided to try penguin sledding on his own. He lined his coat pockets with as much smoked salmon as he could carry and snuck out of our hut when the sun wasn’t even up yet.”

Zuko leaned forward, resting his elbows on Hakoda’s mattress, “I might not have noticed, but we’d just had a fresh snow and he left these tiny little footprints behind.” The chief shook his head, eyes twinkling in the memory, “I followed that trail, to find my son wrangling the emperor otter penguin. It was twice his height and three times his weight. There were other penguins around that would have been easier than to manage, but he faced it down like a true warrior.”

“What happened?” Hakoda chuckled, he rubbed his temples as if the very memory injured him.

“He somehow managed to get himself onto the otter penguin’s back, though I can’t explain how on earth he did it to this day. But it was too big for him, so he slid out of control through the center of the village and knocked over three huts, destroyed two canoes, and started a small fire.” Zuko covered his mouth, the humor twinkling in his eyes extinguishing, “That was such a mess, especially when all the other otter penguins came stampeding through behind their emperor.” He shook his head, “Sokka got tossed off in the scuffle. I had to pull him out of a pile of feathers, ice, and fish.” He saw the wide eyes staring back at him, knowing something had changed, “What’s the matter?”

“What did you do to him?” The prince asked.

“Oh, you mean after I fished him out?” Zuko nodded, “Gave him the world’s tightest hug, took him home for a long bath, and during his bath we had a chat about the appropriate way to go about penguin sledding. After that, he helped clean up the damage and apologized to everyone, and went to bed early that night.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed, shaking his head.

“I meant his punishment.” Hakoda gave him an incredulous look, “He did all that damage. You must have punished him somehow. Didn’t you?”

“Sokka hated baths. In some ways that was punishment enough, but he made the decision on his own to help fix the damage. Which told me he understood what he did had consequences that needed resolving. It didn’t require further punishment,” Hakoda shrugged, “Besides it was an accident and he was only five. What would your father have done?” Zuko bristled. His fingers inched towards his face for a moment but pulled them away again quickly. Hakoda stared at the scar framing Zuko’s eye, noticing for the first time that it was five-pronged. Like a handprint.

The chief’s eyes drifted down to his own hand, “Oh La,” He muttered, “It wouldn’t matter what you’d done. It couldn’t possibly have warranted that.” Pressing his lips together, the prince turned away. He toyed with the hem of one of the blankets.

“You don’t understand,” He mumbled more to his feet than the man across from him. The rope brushed across his toes. Zuko frowned at it, kicking the coil like it bit him.

“I definitely don’t, your prickliness. You should try to get back to sleep.” Hakoda waited for Zuko to settle himself back into the nest before draping a blanket over the boy.

“You mean now that you’ve told me a bedtime story and tucked me in?” Zuko asked, with no real humor in his voice. Hakoda smiled over at him, nodding, “You must really miss your kids.”

“That must be it. Go back to sleep, Zuko.” He reached over and smoothed the teen’s ponytail, grinning at his sullen grunt even as the boy leaned slightly into his touch before he settled deeper into his bed and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I was really mean to Zuko in last chapter, so hopefully, this helps make up for it! Let me know what you think. This girl thrives on comments! 💚


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda considers what he's learned. Zuko wakes up regretting what he let slip, doing his best to keep distance between them even as rope's length shrinks. Their unique situation forces Zuko to be in attendance at a war room meeting, where he's told not to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, 
> 
> I finished another project for the semester, so as promised I have another installment for you. But since there have been several comments and questions about this I wanted to go ahead and make a note about it to clear things up, since I've clearly done a wonderful job of confusing people.
> 
> Zuko is his cannon age in this story. 
> 
> I acknowledge he acts younger at times. I usually write middle-grade novels about 8 to 12-year-olds, so that influences the rest of my writing. One of my goals in the story is to get better at writing teenagers, so hopefully, you can bear with me...🙈 
> 
> I know there's a couple other factors going on of why it's confusing, but hopefully that clears things up a little. 
> 
> Getting to the chapter, a war meeting where Zuko isn't supposed to speak. That sounds familiar, doesn't it, what could possibly go wrong?

Hakoda abandoned his papers or the concept of a rest of his own with a quiet sigh, his thoughts fixed on the firebender beside him. Images of younger Zukos flashed in his mind, stitched together from his imagination and stolen memories of Sokka. At what point in the boy’s life did that scar appear?

The chief wasn’t certain he’d ever sleep again, and he was more than glad when Zuko stirred awake a few hours later. He watched the prince press the heels of his hands against his eyes, fingers tracing the bandage across his forehead and wincing as they glanced over the tender skin beneath it. Zuko pulled his hand away, amber eyes finding Hakoda’s gentle gaze. He scowled.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Zuko ordered.

“Like what, prickliness?” Hakoda asked, reaching into his desk drawer to retrieve a few strips of a dried meat that Zuko didn’t recognize. He tossed one of the strips to the boy and watched him catch it on reflex. Nose wrinkling, Zuko turned the strip of meat in his fingers.

“Like you know anything about me. Like you understand,” He snapped. Hakoda rubbed his temples, wishing the teenager would just eat the jerky instead of toying with it. While he hadn’t taken care of a child in years, he knew that food tended to soften extreme moods. The prince couldn’t yell at him if his mouth was full either. Hakoda opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.

He leaned against his desk, biting into a piece of the jerky and chewing longer than he needed to. The longer he chewed, the less likely he was to say something to further set off his charge. Though Zuko’s escape attempts meant he’d avoided all formal interrogations, Hakoda did have a steadily growing bank of information about the fire prince from each time the boy slipped up and revealed more than he intended. 

But he kept that to himself. 

Zuko huffed but lifted his jerky, biting off a small piece from the end of the strip. He chewed, brow wrinkling, “What is this?” He asked, his initial annoyance fading in the face of curiosity. 

“Don’t tell me they don’t have seal jerky in the Fire Nation either?” Zuko shook his head, not pulling the strip away from his mouth, “I assume it’s enjoyable to you, either that or your delicate palate is too starved to mind at the moment?”

Zuko didn’t answer, instead taking another and larger bite of jerky. Hakoda banked another piece of information, his charge liked seal jerky. The piece in Zuko’s hand quickly disappeared, “Another, your ravenousness?” Zuko nodded, catching the new piece of jerky smoothly between his fingers and making it disappear faster than the first. The boy stared at the other strips of jerky on the table when it wasn’t immediately offered. His mouth opening and closing. 

Hakoda rolled his eyes. Zuko clearly wanted more but wasn’t willing to ask for it. “You can have another if you let me take a look at that cut.” He apparently wasn’t above using food as bribery. The boy seemed to weigh his options, before perching on the edge of the bed. Zuko crossed his arms, but let his face be prodded. He winced when Hakoda’s fingers brushed over a particularly tender spot. His fingers heated, narrowly avoiding setting the blankets on the chief’s bed alight, “It looks like it’s healing well enough to leave the bandage off and let it air out.”

The stark red mark stood out on Zuko’s pale skin, too far from the scar to blend with it. Hakoda found himself oddly glad for its placement. Not that he expected they’d be remorseful, but the men needed to see the consequences of their actions. 

Zuko held out his hand expectantly, rousing Hakoda from his thoughts. The man handed over another strip of jerky and made his next move while Zuko was distracted. He tied several knots in the rope, shrinking the distance between them to a few paces. Until the rope wouldn’t touch the ground.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Zuko snapped when he saw the state of the rope. He reached for the knots, bristling when Hakoda caught his hands and clasped them in his larger ones, “Get. Off.”

“Look at me, please,” The chief said softly. He waited until Zuko’s stopped pulling away and the boy’s amber eyes found his blue ones, “It isn’t a punishment this time. It’s a safety precaution. I don’t want it getting snagged by either of us or anyone else.” He gave Zuko’s cut a pointed stare, letting his hands go before the boy thought about burning him, “I’ll untie the extra knots as soon as we’re back in our cabin.”

Lips set in a firm line, Zuko held out his hand. Hakoda clasped the boy’s hand and shook it. Pulling him to his feet in the same movement. They walked in silence from the cabin through the narrow passageway and stopped in front of a door. Hakoda reached for the door handle, stopping to examine Zuko, “I recommend you stay quiet.”

“Is this a war room meeting?” Zuko asked, shivering despite the temperature in the passageway.

“Something like that.” He said but decided against asking why that made a difference. 

“Can’t you just lock me in the cabin instead?” Hakoda shook his head.

“I think we both know why that isn’t an option. Just don’t speak and it’ll be fine.” He settled a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, steering the boy into the cramped cabin that functioned as the war room on the ship before he could argue further. Zuko knocked his hand off, slipped his hold, and did his best to slide behind Hakoda. But the rope’s shortened length wouldn’t allow him to move completely behind the man, leaving him exposed.

“Chief, should the brat really hear this?” The chief’s second asked. Hakoda shrugged, pointing to the rope like it was explanation enough before taking his seat at the head of the table. Pulling over an overturned crate for Zuko to sit on, he patted it, but the boy shook his head. Instead, Zuko slid to the floor with his legs crossed. Out of sight from most of the men.

“Suit yourself,” Hakoda muttered before turning his attention back to Bato, “Who is he going to tell, the fish?” Zuko slid further beneath the table until he was practically hidden from view.

“Still think it’s a bad idea, Hakoda. And explain to me why he stays on that rope, we’ve all seen him get out of much more difficult restraints.” Bato pushed back from the table enough to catch sight of Zuko from beneath it. The boy glared but slid back, straining the rope.

Hakoda winced, air rushing from his mouth as the sudden pull on his lungs. He reached for the rope and gave it a warning tug. After a second, the slack grew between them. A soft tug followed. One that Hakoda liked to imagine was almost apologetic. 

“Because there’s a difference between having the ability to do something and making a choice not to,” He replied as evenly as he could as he caught his breath, “But your concerns are noted, shall we begin?” A low murmur of agreement rippled through the crew, even as glances still drifted toward the edge of the table as if they could all see the prince below it.

Zuko knew if he were a better prince to the Fire Nation, he would listen to more of the war meeting and bank the information in the event he ever got off the ship. But a dull ache blossomed through his head, forcing him to tune most of it out. Besides, he supposed if he were really a better prince he wouldn’t be there in the first place. 

A chair pushed back from the table, another set of eyes peering at Zuko. He bristled, but the young crewman just held out a strange-looking piece of fruit for him to take. Zuko stared between the offering and the man, reluctant to move from the safety of his spot where no one could reach him. The man shrugged, rolling the fruit into Zuko’s range. He lifted it, nodded his head in a slow thanks, and began to pick at its tough peel. Making no progress and letting a huff of air rush from his lips, he tossed the fruit down to the floor.

Zuko’s eyes widened, watching it roll back across the floor and knock into the young crewman’s boot. The man examined Zuko’s handiwork and snorted, stabbing the fruit with his knife to get him started before offering it again. Less cautious, Zuko slid forward and took the fruit back. He nodded at the crewman before returning to his original place. 

He dug into the peel, sticky juices spreading over his fingers as he lifted the fruit to his mouth and winced its slightly sour taste. Sucking on one of the segments, he stopped short hearing Hakoda say,

“We’ll just have to send word we won’t be arriving at the meeting point because of the blockade.” Zuko’s ears perked up, “If we try to break through it, we’ll lose the ship.”

“But we have a bargaining chip, Chief.” Zuko’s stomach dropped at the words from a voice he didn’t recognize, “If the Fire Lord knew his only son was on board, he’d be willing to let us pass and make an exchange.” Zuko bristled, his lips pressed together, “We win both ways. Safe passage and we get the ashmaker off our ship.” 

The word tumbled from Zuko’s mouth before he could stop it.

“No!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and history repeated itself. 
> 
> I cannot believe how engaged people are with this story and how quickly it's grown. Thank you all for your comments so far and keep letting me know what you think!  
> 💚 Chronically yours 💚


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war meeting continues after Zuko's interuption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone,  
> In case anyone was curious, yesterday I finished my clinical externship for the semester. So, that means another chapter and you can get off that cliff I left you hanging on! 💚

Zuko scrambled to his feet, gripping the edge of the tabletop to hide his trembles. The sticky juice residue from the strange fruit, now crushed beneath his boots, heated against the pads of his fingers. The sugars leaving blackened prints behind as they burned against Zuko’s hands. 

Hakoda swore under his breath, peeling the prince’s fingers off the wood before he could set it alight, and jammed the waterskin into the boy’s hands. Papers scattered and fell to the floor. Zuko stared down at the skin. Its faded materials pulsed against his fingers as the water within’s furious boil churned.

The war room was silent. 

Though he didn’t look up, Zuko knew every eye in the cabin locked on him, waiting for him to speak. His mouth opened, but no words came. He closed his lips again. Shaking his head, Zuko moved to slip back to the floor. But a hand settled on his elbow to stop his retreat. Hakoda gave the prince’s arm a gentle squeeze. A glance backward at the man told Zuko it wasn’t a warning to stop, instead encouragement to continue. 

Steeling himself, he stared down at the waterskin. This time finding his voice.

“I know you think I'm a bargaining chip, but I’m worthless to my father. You’d probably be putting the ship in more danger by telling him I’m on board.” He shuddered, the hand on his elbow squeezed again and pressed upward. The prince couldn’t tell if it was another encouragement to continue or an attempt to keep him steady on his feet.

It was a risk to tell them they held a useless prisoner on their ship, Zuko knew. Useless prisoners get disposed of, why should useless princes be any different? Their misconceptions about his age couldn’t offer him much protection either. Not in the face of the dangers of keeping him. But any chances for survival, his own and theirs were hinged on this admission.

“I highly doubt your father thinks you’re worthless.” Zuko shook his head at Hakoda’s words, “You’re still his child.” Bristling, Zuko shook off Hakoda’s hold on his elbow. He turned back to the man. Amber eyes flaming, unsettled by the chief’s steady gaze. One of Zuko’s hands released the waterskin. 

Hakoda flinched from an expectant rush of flames. One that never came. He watched with rising shame as Zuko’s hand found the rough skin on the outermost edge of his scar, the boy’s jaw in a firm line of reproach for Hakoda’s apparent distrust. Sighing as he reached down to the rope between them, gave it a soft apologetic tug, and pulled out one of the knots between them in concession. Zuko’s eyes flickered wide, his gaze drifting down to the rope as he continued.

“I was banished from the Fire Nation,” The waterskin slipped from his fingers before he could stop it. It bounced off the table and landed on the floor, leaking water that steamed around the papers and the prince’s feet, “Trying to return me to my father is the same as throwing me off the side of the ship. I’d be dead either way.”

Not daring to meet Hakoda’s gaze or anyone else’s, Zuko dropped to the floor again. The last of the escaped water consumed in the heat of his fingers. He slid back, tucking himself beneath the table as far as the rope would allow him to pull without hurting Hakoda. 

“Zuko…” But the prince didn’t respond. He pressed his face against his knees, taking staggered breaths to calm himself. Sighing, Hakoda pulled out the rest of the knots between them to give Zuko slack. He held a piece of jerky under the table, feeling it snatched away a moment later. Hakoda watched Zuko scuttle back again, “You can stay under there,” His tone gentle and resigned, “I’m not going to make you come out.”  _ Yet, _ but he supposed there was no sense in upsetting the boy further by finishing the statement. 

Hakoda rubbed his temples, turning his attention back to the others, “Other suggestions?”

“To not listen to the fire brat because he’s trying to manipulate you,” Bato piped up. The chief rolled his eyes. He knew how it must have looked to the others. Maybe his judgment was clouded, but what he saw in Zuko’s eyes was genuine. That sort of reaction couldn’t be faked. The boy truly had something to fear by returning home and Hakoda had no interest in delivering him back to the place that gave him that scar in the first place.

“Other suggestions?” He repeated, tone sharper than he meant. The rope shifted, he assumed as Zuko retreated further away from him. Hakoda made more furtive glances beneath the table. His charge glowered back at him, ignoring further offers of jerky or fruit. The boy turned from him and refused to engage any further. 

The meeting continued, voices rising with each suggestion or opposition raised, but Hakoda’s thoughts were fixed firmly beneath the table with Zuko. Every shift of the firebender on the other end of the rope pulled his focus further from the others.

Until Bato sniffed the air, his frame stiffening as his eyes darkened. Hakoda’s stomach twisted, jolted by his second’s declaration,

“Something’s burning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...please don't hate me.
> 
> But feel free to rant, rave, question, discuss and or make predictions in the comments! Comments make my day and inspire me as I'm writing your next update.
> 
> 💚 Chronically Yours💚


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the war room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I solemnly swear this will not end in another cliffhanger. 
> 
> It's a weird chapter. But hopefully, it's enough to satisfy any curiosities or anxieties I've left you with. I felt really bad about doing it twice. I think we can cross evil mastermind off my career list.
> 
> But let's see where were we, oh that's right, _"Something's burning." ___

A faint, but bitter scent carried to Hakoda’s nose. The unmistakable smell of smoke weighed down the air around them. Chairs toppled backward, clattering into the cabin walls. His crew on their feet and poised to strike down the threat beneath the table. Bringing his hand to the rope, Hakoda tested its weight. He half-expected a loose, burned end of rope to slide out from beneath the table. Instead, he was met with the familiar resistance of Zuko’s wiry frame.

Eyebrows wrinkling, he held up a hand to halt the preparations. Uneasy glances shifted through the stalled men, watching as Hakoda crouched low. Through the slight haze of smoke, Zuko’s amber eyes glowed wide and spooked beneath the table. But there were no flames in sight. Not a single drifting spark lingered in the air. 

Hakoda’s insides unclenched enough to catch his breath, “Everyone else clear out. I’ll handle this,” he said, tone deceptively level, even as Zuko slid backward enough to yank the rope again. Bato’s voice broke through the clatter of footsteps.

“Chief?” Hakoda didn’t take his eyes from Zuko’s hunched form to turn to his second who hesitated in the doorway. 

“It’s fine, Bato. He’s not attacking.” And he wasn’t. The prince had done something, that much was clear, but whatever he did was finished. Nothing lingered beyond the fading smoke and the prince’s apprehensions weighing down the room.

“Just because the brat’s not attacking now-” Hakoda cut him off.

“He won’t,” He said, with a slight more assurance than he held as Bato scoffed, let the cabin door slam shut behind him, and left them alone. Hakoda let a rush of air pass over his lips. The faint but sharp whistle of air making the prince tense more, if that were possible, “Come out from under there,” he said. Zuko shook his head, “I suppose I could come under there with you, but I think that would be a tight squeeze. Don’t you?” He ran his fingers through his hair, listening to the beads clack in his ears.

Lips pressed in a thin line, Zuko inched forward. A gesture of greater depth than the slight distance that closed between them, “What did you do, Zuko?” He asked.

“Nothing.” The boy’s gaze flicked to the side, his jaw jutting in a stubborn rebellion. 

“Rooms don’t suddenly fill with smoke. If you’re going to lie to me, you at least have to try to make it believable.” Hakoda waved his hand through the thickened air of the cabin to illustrate his point. Zuko bristled, the undertones of his pale skin turning red.

“I can lie.” Hakoda rolled his eyes, “I lied to you before,” He insisted, wincing as the words tumbled out of his mouth of their own volition. Sighing, he inched forward again to lean against one of the table legs, his fingers tracing the grooved wood. 

Every fiber of Hakoda’s being begged Tui and La that Zuko would tell him the story about his scar was a fabrication, a manipulation tactic designed to pull on his heartstrings. An effective one at that. But at the raise of his eyebrow in silent permission to continue, “You thought I was close to your daughter’s age, but I’m not. I’m not thirteen,” Hakoda raised his eyebrow, “I’m sixteen. I thought…” He trailed off, pressing the heels of his palms against his face to quiet the pounding of his head, “It seemed safer.” Hakoda blinked and processed the information. The boy crouching just beneath the table was older than his own children and nearly old enough to be a soldier by Fire Nation standards.

He strangled down a laugh brewing inside of him.

“Not a bad strategy,” He conceded, “I don’t know if you can really call that a lie, since you didn’t say anything.” Zuko shrugged, “But tell me, _sixteen-year-old_ , what were you doing under the table?”

“Nothing,” He said again. Hakoda massaged his temples again.

“Zuko, give a father some credit that when his child says they were doing nothing, he knows they were most certainly doing something.” Zuko froze. _His child?_ It must have been a slip of the tongue. Wasn’t Hakoda always saying he had two children of his own? He didn’t need a damaged, banished fire prince. The man noticed his own wording, but before he could think of what to say Zuko sat straighter. 

“What are you going to do?” He asked.

“I think that depends on what you did, Zuko.” The boy pressed lips together. Hakoda rubbed his temples, changing his approach, “Tell me this, did what you were doing hurt anyone?” Zuko shook his head, “Were you trying to hurt anyone?” He shook his head again, “Then I can’t promise what you did won’t make me angry or warrant a punishment of some sort, but I can promise that you won’t be harmed for it.”

The prince had moved close enough for Hakoda to catch Zuko’s chin in his hand. He tensed for a second, but settled into the hold when he realized it was gentle enough to pull away. He considered the words for a moment before he nodded, pushed Hakoda’s wrist away, and slid a roll of paper out from one of his sleeves to spread across the floor. Dark, black lines charted across the paper. But the lines weren’t ink. It was then Hakoda noticed the black stains on Zuko’s fingers. Black with ash. 

“It’s an alternate route to your meeting spot.” His chest puffed softly, the corners of his lips turning into something akin to pride, “It avoids blockades and Fire Nation waters.”

“How did you-” The chief began. Zuko shrugged.

“I know where all the blockades are. I estimated our location and your meeting location based on the conversations, and I’ve memorized maps.” The man pushed himself to his feet, bringing Zuko’s route map to the table. He reached a hand behind him to help Zuko up, but the boy was already on his feet and brushing off invisible pieces of dust from his trousers, “Was I close?”

“Terrifyingly spot on.” Zuko nodded. He hadn’t expected any different. His fear lapsing in the face of his curiosity. He perched on the edge of the tabletop, nearly leaning on Hakoda’s shoulder to get a better look at the other maps on the table. Pleased to see he’d been very accurate in his estimations. If the crew used his mapped-out route, they’d arrive where they needed to be without entering Fire Nation waters at all, “And no,” Hakoda turned toward him, “I’m not mad at you. Just do us all a favor and ask for some ink next time.” He wrapped his hand around the boy’s left shoulder and gave a soft squeeze.

Zuko stiffened at the embrace, shrugging it off and pulling back. Hakoda let him go, watching the teen pick ash from his nail beds. 

“Well, I didn't know it was going to make that much smoke...It was stupid. It's not like you can’t use it, anyway,” Zuko muttered, his eyes darkening. Hakoda cleared the papers away with a swipe of his arm. Catching the boy as he tried to shuffle further backward, Hakoda used his forearms to pin Zuko from slipping away, until the startled prince had no choice but to meet Hakoda’s gaze and explain himself, “Agni, I just meant your crew won’t agree to follow a route made by the _fire brat_ ,” He spat out.

“Don’t call yourself that, please,” Hakoda said. He knew Zuko was right, it would take a great deal of convincing or lying to get anyone to agree to use the route the boy made. They’d all assume it was a trap. The chief would have to think out an approach.

“You used to,” The prince pointed out, “Between calling me all the other names.”

“Yes, well fire brat is my least favorite. I certainly don’t like hearing it coming out of your mouth. Most of the names I have for you come out of a certain place of affection. Fire brat doesn’t.” Zuko nodded slowly.

“What did you call your kids?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, “well Sokka had several, usually some variation of warrior or soldier. Village Destroyer could always get a rise out of him. Katara, well, she was mostly just Katara. I tried calling her princess but she never liked it. She always wanted to be a warrior too.” Zuko nodded. It reminded him of Azula, burning the dolls she was given whenever he was given a knife or a sword as a gift, “Are you asking because of what I said earlier?” Zuko shrugged, looking away from the chief.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” He patted Zuko’s arm, his right one that time, stepping back for the boy to stand on his own. They walked from the cabin in silence, Hakoda's thoughts loud enough to fill the passageway. He couldn’t be sure he hadn’t meant to call Zuko his. In fact, he was fairly certain he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you there wasn't a cliffhanger. You didn't trust me about it, did you? I probably deserved it if you didn't...
> 
> I'm guessing that's not what you expected to happen, but if anyone saw that coming I'd love to know. Any other comments, questions, & discussions are always welcome.
> 
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bato's suspicions of Zuko result in an illustrative conversation and an experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi pals,   
> Here is the next chapter for you. I'm officially on school break...I think (COVID school is weird). I hope this chapter finds you all safe and well!

Zuko sprawled on the floor of Hakoda’s cabin, the rope extended to its full length between them. A bottle of black ink perched on the boards beside him, a stack of paper on the side. He dragged his dripping brush through the center of one of the white pages, watching the ink spread through the fibers. Dark ink stained the pads of his pale fingers.

Hakoda glanced up from his charts, the ghost of a smile on his lips mirroring the prince’s expression. He wasn’t relaxed, not by any normal standards. The prince’s focus on the drawing in front of him wouldn’t allow that. But Zuko seemed quite content to draw for hours once the supplies were provided. He didn’t ask for them, but Hakoda made the supplies available to keep the boy out of trouble. The chief expected more maps. Instead, a sea of drawings had taken their place. 

Zuko was finishing up the sails on a picture of their ship when a knock rattled the door. He jumped, nearly wrecking the drawing but managed to pull his brush back in time. Hakoda stood, crossed the room, and ruffled the boy’s ponytail as he passed, “You’re fine. Keep working.” The boy’s gaze flicked to the door but nodded slowly, he bent his head over the picture to add another set of curling waves to the water below the ship and tried to ignore his sinking discomfort as the door opened. 

Bato stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of the prince on the floor with papers and ink scattered around him, his brows wrinkled. 

“What is he doing?”

“Drawing,” Hakoda answered, his tone dry. He side-stepped the boy on the floor, taking care to lift the rope so it didn’t drag through his workspace, “Surely you’ve seen someone do it before?” The second’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

“He likes it and he’s good at it too, aren’t you Zuko?” Zuko glanced up at the question, eyes wary, but didn’t answer. He dropped his gaze. Clicking his tongue, Hakoda crossed to his desk and the small, but growing collection of Zuko’s paintings pinned on the wall above it. He pointed out a Pai Sho tile sketched on a scrap of paper, “The White Lotus, isn’t it?” He asked. Zuko nodded, without looking up. Bato didn’t give the wall more than a bored glance, “Gives him something to do while I’m working too.” The chief sunk into his chair, “What did you need Bato?” But the second wasn’t ready to move on.

“Most people would put their prisoners to work, not give them art projects.” Bato stepped into the room, he kicked a section of rope out of his path. Papers scattering in its wake, “And this,” He said, “explain how this keeps him under control?”

Zuko scrambled to his feet, backing away and across the room at Bato’s approach. Lips set into a firm line, he slipped into the narrow space behind Hakoda’s chair with his back pressed against the wall. He crossed his arms, glaring over the chief’s shoulder at Bato. Hakoda glanced over his shoulder, snorting at the boy’s defensive posture, before his second finished, “It couldn’t take him longer than a minute to get that rope off.”

Hakoda caught Zuko’s gaze, easing the drawing of the ship from his hands before it was crushed.  _ Or burned. _ He smoothed the paper before pinning it to the wall with the others. 

“Your best one yet,” He muttered and grinned as the teen’s gaze flicked away from him in reaction to the compliment, “Now, how long would it take you to get yourself free?” Zuko shrugged. His stiff shoulders rolling back against the wall, “Humor me and guess,” The chief pressed. He watched the boy consider his options.

Zuko leaned forward on the edge of Hakoda’s chair, close enough the smell of ash from the burned sleeve of the man’s coat rushed into his nose. The lingering scent of fire bolstering him enough to speak.

“If I used something sharp or could safely fire bend, a few seconds. If I had to untie it, less than a half a minute.” He rattled off.

“Thank you.” Hakoda blinked, he’d almost forgotten until the boy said it, how tenuous their arrangement was. Prince Zuko was more than capable of freeing himself. And yet the boy was still on the rope, practically burrowing himself into the crook of Hakoda’s shoulder, “Would you explain why you stay on the rope, then?” Zuko turned his head to look at the chief and frowned. He shook his head, “Please.” Scowling, the prince turned to Bato again.

“Fine. Because it’s safer for everyone this way, and...” Zuko’s face colored, falling silent. He stood up straight again and turned to stare at his pictures on the wall. Finished with the conversation. Hakoda nodded. He hooked his arm over the back of his chair, catching one of the prince’s wrists. The boy stiffened and stared at the thumb that delivered slow, absent strokes to the back of his hand. He rolled his eyes but didn’t fight off the comforting embrace. 

“So, what the brat wouldn’t say is that he’s become attached to you, and not just because of some piece of rope,” Bato’s narrowed eyes followed the soothing circles of Hakoda’s thumb, “And he’s not the only one to have developed an attachment.” Hakoda couldn’t exactly deny it, nor did he want to. Bato’s eyes flashed, “But what happens if someone else holds the leash?” Zuko's hand tightened beneath Hakoda’s, turning to grasp the man’s wrist.

“What?” The chief asked, keeping his voice calm, though he knew where the conversation was headed and didn’t like it in the slightest.

“If the brat is really as trustworthy as you think he is, then someone else should be able to be on the other end of the rope without an issue. Someone who doesn’t have the same level of attachment to the brat as you have, Hakoda.” Zuko’s fingers dug into Hakoda’s arm, heating dangerously close to burning. Getting his teeth against the heat, Hakoda peeled them off and opted to hold the teen’s closed fist in his hand.

“Watch it,” He muttered in the boy’s ear before turning his attention back to Bato, “You’re saying you want to?” 

“Want to? No,” The man scoffed darkly, “but no one else would want to either.” Both men turned to stare at the boy against the wall. Zuko’s jaw set in a firm line. His gaze flitted around the room for an escape, but in seeking shelter behind Hakoda he’d backed himself into a corner between the bed and desk. Not that he’d run, compromising Hakoda’s trust, or give Bato the satisfaction of seeing him hide again, but it gave him some comfort, all the same, to think through his options.

Until he felt the slack leave the rope between them, and Zuko shook his head as he watched Hakoda tie off the knots between them. 

“Just for a few hours,” Hakoda’s tone stayed soft for Zuko, but his warning gaze fixed on his second, “You’ll go with Bato from now until just after dinner, and then come back here to me.” The coil around his waist tighter somehow than it was before, constricting his lungs, though nothing had changed. Zuko shook his head again, “This isn’t a negotiation, Zuko. I need the others to see you can be trusted. Understand?” Zuko nodded slowly. He took a staggered breath, posture squaring as he bolstered himself again.

“I expect the same verbal agreements stand?” Hakoda snorted at the sudden reappearance of Zuko’s royal mannerisms, ones that only seemed to rear their head when the boy needed courage. Bato cocked his head at the wording.

“The rope isn’t to be pulled on without prior warning, in exchange Zuko won’t touch it.” Zuko crossed his arms, “While up on deck the distance is shortened to prevent accidents, but while in a cabin space he has the full length at his disposal. Unless he’s non-compliant, in which case,” he turned to Zuko to finish.

“Distance can be removed at your discretion.” Zuko’s clenched fingers flexed. Hakoda tried to pass him the waterskin, but the boy shook his head and refused to take it, “Just get this over with,” he said in quiet resignation, the royal air disappearing again. Hakoda squeezed Zuko’s fist gently in his own, nodded, and began to loosen the knots on his end until he could work the loop over his upper body and pass it over to Bato.

The man stepped into the loop, tightening it down and giving his frame an experimental twist. Zuko gulped, stale air of the cabin choking its way down his throat. His eyes widened as Bato took several steps to test the rope. The movements tugged him staggering from his place of safety, in harsh contrast to the gentle ways the chief navigated the rope between them, “Hakoda,” he began, though he didn’t know what to say or what he expected the man to do. The decision had been made.

“Have some respect brat, he’s the chief,” Bato snapped. Hakoda raised his hand.

“I’m not his chief, Bato. Zuko can call me by my name if he wants.” Hakoda watched uneasy, as Bato’s movement cast Zuko around the room like a piece of bait on a line, “Don’t pull on him like that, he’s not as big as you are. It’ll hurt him. I don’t want to see a scratch on him when you bring him back.” He wanted to call the whole thing off and snatch Zuko back from his second.

Instead, he had to let him go. The amber eyes caught his, wide and uncertain. Zuko’s fingers brushed against the door frame as Bato led him away, the door slamming shut behind him. Hakoda’s eyes found the darkened places left behind from the spots Zuko’s fingers touched. He prayed to Tui and La that those would be the only burns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An alternate version of that exchange:
> 
> _Hakoda: Look at my new kid’s art!  
>  Bato: …  
> Hakoda: You didn’t even look, though  
> Bato: …  
> Hakoda: Please  
> Bato: Fine. What’s that supposed to be?  
> Hakoda: I don’t know, but Zuko made it. So, it’s perfect.   
> Bato: ... ___
> 
> __Also, I haven't really decided yet if Zuko's actually really good at drawing, or if Hakoda is just being a good "dad" about it... We'll see. Feel free to cast your vote, as well as generally discuss, comment, or predict in the comments!  
>  💚 Chronically Yours 💚_ _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Bato struggle to find balance in their experiment with the rope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> I loved hearing everyone's head cannons and rationales for Zuko's artistic abilities! Pretty much everyone was all for Zuko being a skilled artist and I'm here for it (even if I think on some level it would be hysterical if he were just as bad as Sokka and Hakoda's just used to that, so is totally ready with the praise anyway).  
> But anyway, getting onto what you really care about, let's see how Zuko and Bato get along...

_Zuko was drowning_. If Hakoda was a steady current, Bato was a riptide pulling his feet from beneath him until he could barely keep his head above water. He stumbled behind Bato, trying to fall into step but he couldn’t find a rhythm with the unfamiliar man.

“How the chief stands this, I have no idea.” Bato stopped short. He toyed with one of the knots, working it through his fingers. Eyes narrowing, Zuko watched more slack gather in the rope. The loop around his waist dipped, looser than before. Even attached to the wrong person, he missed the security of its firm hold.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. He reached toward one of the loosened knots to fix it, but the chief’s second smacked his hand. He recoiled. Heat radiated through the injured hand, sparks glowing inside his clenched fingers. Eyes wide, he dragged his gaze back up Bato’s cold glare.

“Maybe that’ll teach you to keep those hands to yourself. Don’t think I didn’t see that fire, either.” Bato glared down at him. Zuko crossed his arms.

“It wasn’t on purpose.” Zuko fought to keep his tone level, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm and under control, “Hakoda doesn’t hit me.” He raised his chin, in the closest gesture of defiance he dared to take against Bato. The man sneered down at him, unintimidated by the boy. 

“No, he’s too busy coddling you. Trust me, fire brat, you won’t be getting any of that from me.” The man took off down the passageway again, while Zuko scrambled to keep up with him. They turned the corner into a wider, open cabin with hammocks strung in uneven rows. Bato strode over to one of the wooden trunks beneath a swinging hammock in the corner of the room. He gave Zuko a warning look before turning his back on the boy, removing a knife from the trunk and the lid slammed shut again.

Bristling, Zuko’s eyes followed the glare of the blade, “You can relax,” Bato relented, “it’s not for you, brat. Long as you behave, we won’t have a problem. I’m not allowed to leave a mark, remember?” The prince didn’t answer as he followed behind Bato back through the cabin and headed for the deck. He braced himself to face the rest of the crew without Hakoda. Biting his lip, Zuko wished he hadn’t refused the waterskin but he didn’t dare ask Bato to go back for it.

They stepped onto the deck, Zuko’s fingers tightening into fists at his side. He staggered after Bato, the rope dangling awkwardly between them.

“You’re supposed to tie up the extra rope,” Zuko mumbled. Bato turned to glare at him. He yanked the rope, knocking Zuko off his feet. The boy landed in a heap on the deck. Zuko glowered up at him as Bato tied off several sloppy knots. A short distance of a few paces was left between them. Bato tweaked some of the other knots and the loop around the prince’s hip sat even lower.

He turned, making Zuko scramble and chase after him across the deck. The rope was loose enough that it rubbed his skin raw whenever it strained. Zuko gritted his teeth but swallowed down any complaints brimming at the surface. Instead, he kept his head low, waiting for Bato to turn his back before making delicate adjustments to the rope. He tightened the knots to sit more firmly against his waist again, dropping his hands back to his sides.

“What are you doing?” Bato turned on his heel.

“Walking,” He answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The man’s eyes traveled down the rope, seeing where it had tightened. Shaking his head, Bato tweaked the knots again and yanked him along. He brought him over to the side of the ship and watched the fire brat squirm.

“Are you always this wound up? I’m pulling in a net, not tossing you over the side.” Bato yanked in the net, fish slapping against the deck. Zuko gagged at the smell. He strained against the rope to get away from it, “Oh, does the royal brat not enjoy the pleasant aroma of freshly caught fish?” Bato snickered. Zuko tried to school his expression, all while bile rose in his throat. Losing the battle with his stomach, he raced between the fish and wretched into the waves below. 

Throat and eyes burning, the unwelcomed moisture further obscured his scarred side and blurred Zuko’s vision around the edges. A flash of blue in the corner of his eye startled the prince. He staggered backward, trying to put Bato out of range again. Unprepared for the weight of the second’s adjustments to the rope, Zuko lost his balance.

Plummeting over the side ship.

Zuko barely heard Bato’s swears over the rush of air in his ears and the approaching crash of the waves below. His fingernails gouged the hull, scrabbling for purchase to slow his descent. The rope pulling taut against his weight, smacking his face as he struggled for a hold. Bato’s sloppy knots falling away and dragging his frame closer to the icy water with a quick succession of jolts. 

Gritting his teeth, Zuko felt the rope sliding from his waist and tearing against him as he slipped from its hold. Raw burns etched into his skin. The sting of sweat and salt spray seeped in through the vulnerable openings left by the rope, sending tremors through his already fraught muscles. Untethered, he clung to the ship even as the water licked at his feet and dragged him further into their depths. 

His gaze tore up the side of the hull for a path, mapping a pathway away from the onrush of panic and water. A losing battle with his grip and mind as a wave buffeted the ship, and Zuko’s holds failed. Gasping, he just managed to catch his breath before he plunged beneath the surface of the water, and Zuko was _drowning_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, it's not a Cliffhanger...it's a...it's a...it's a _Shiphanger _.__  
>  _  
> _That was bad, I'm so sorry for that one. But I won't leave you hanging for long, so hopefully, that makes up for it a little._  
> _  
>  _  
> _As always please feel free to question, rant, comment, discuss, or anything in the comment section below!_  
> _  
>  _  
> _💚 Chronically Yours 💚__  
> 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...and Zuko was _drowning. ___
> 
> _  
> _The aftermath.__  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This chapter was created fueled by very large quantities of caffeine and sugar (x3-4 times the author's normal amount of intake)...so um, you've been warned.
> 
> So, let's fix this shiphanger...

Water.

Not the first time.

Dark.

He closed his eyes.

Cold. 

At first, almost numbing cold, soothing to the skin torn up by Bato’s sloppy knotwork and the slipping rope, until the ocean’s salt lashed Zuko’s wounds. 

Burning coursed beneath the layers of his skin, unrelenting against his silent struggles. The water captured him, held him in place, and taunted him in its tides.  _ Suffering will be your teacher. _

But a different voice overtook the roar of the waves, and Zuko squeezed his eyes shut at its familiar lilt. Something that made his pressed lips wobble and his bursting lungs pang. Tucked away somewhere on the ship, was his confiscated Earth Kingdom knife with the inscription.  _ Never give up without a fight. _

Zuko shook his head, fighting with the weight of water and memories. He  _ had  _ learned some lessons. The prince opened his eyes, squinting through the dark and foam. Reaching through Agni and his inner flame for sensations of heat, Zuko felt the faintest prickle of warmth from somewhere above his head. He thrashed toward the heat, kicking and pulling his arms through the water. Zuko’s head broke the surface.

“Thank La,” He heard over the splash, though Zuko didn’t know what La had to do with it. He gasped for air, nearly sucking in the waves lapping toward his face. Blinking spray from his eyes, he focused on the ship and paddled back to the side. His teeth chattered as he clung to the side, staring upward at Bato, “Grab the rope and I’ll pull you up.” The second called, he dangled the rope so it slapped the side of the ship.

Zuko shook his head, knocking the rope away. 

“I’ll pass,” He gritted his teeth and dragged his soaking frame from the water with whatever holds he could manage, “You’re just going to drop me.” He muttered as he mapped his next holds.

“Look, brat, I’m not going to drop you. It’s not like I threw you off in the first place, and even if I wanted to, Hakoda would murder me if I let anything happen to you.”  _ Anything else, _ hung in the air between them, “ If you can’t trust me, can you at least trust that?” Zuko paused, his head cocking to the side. The motion sent his damp ponytail smacking across his face and more shivers rushing through his frame until he almost lost his hold. Sighing, he nodded. One by one, Zuko transferred his holds, gripped the rope, and clung to it as Bato heaved him back to the deck.

His boots thudded against the boards, legs buckling as he collapsed headlong into the net of fish. Zuko sputtered, coughing water and gagging. He pulled back from the net. His fingers raked the deck in uncoordinated movements to escape the fish. Bile crept up his throat to mix with the saltwater. Even as his muscles quaked he started to pull himself up against the side to stand.

Bato let out a huff of air behind him, locking his arms beneath Zuko’s and dragging the prince back from the side, “Don’t be stupid. We just got you out of the water brat, I’m not letting you fall back in.” Zuko clamped his hand over his mouth, a strangled retch carrying to Bato’s ears. The man half chuckled nearly losing his hold on the dripping fire bender, “Just let it out, we’ll deal with it later.”

Zuko unwittingly complied, vomit and saltwater passing through his lips. He shuddered and pressed into the man behind him to stay on his feet. The retching passed. Bato dragged him back further from the side, the fish, and puddles left behind. He guided Zuko’s limp frame down to the boards, “We need to get those wet clothes off. Can you manage that?” Bato asked.

Zuko’s amber eyes were glazed. He brought his trembling hands to the collar of his jacket, fumbling with closures. Features crumbling, he shook his head. The prince allowed Bato to shed his outer layers, shivering harder as his damp skin was exposed to the brisk air. Zuko gritted his teeth when the material brushed against the raw skin from the rope. 

Bato clicked his tongue, seeing the full extent of the stark damage against Zuko’s pale skin, “La kid,” his voice catching in his throat, “was that all while you were falling?” Zuko’s unfocused gaze flitted away, eyes drifting closed, “No, don’t do that.” Bato shook his head. He prodded Zuko’s shoulders, to stop the boy from drifting off. 

The second shook off his parka, he guided it over Zuko’s head and the burns, “This should help.” Zuko nodded in thanks, the most he could manage as he struggled to regulate his breathing through his raw airways and warm himself. Steam trickled out of his nose and mouth, fizzing as more heat generated from Zuko. Warmth began its slow crawl back into his body.

Bato’s wary gaze followed the steam. He knew it wasn’t fire and doubted the boy would be able to produce any in his condition. But he didn’t like it. The boy at least had the sense to vomit over the side, even if it had resulted in him being knocked off the ship, that was one thing Bato could appreciate about him, “You see violence of all kinds in the Fire Nation, don’t you? That’s got to be worse than a little fish?” 

Zuko took a staggered breath, his head lolling against the deck. He grimaced, “It’s not like I go looking for violence. Besides violence doesn’t smell like that.” His throat contracted like his insides were preparing to gag again. Bato snorted at his response, he toyed with the rope around his waist.

“Why did you leave it so loose?” Zuko asked, his voice brittle. Bato raised an eyebrow at the prince, but Zuko pressed on, “You did it on purpose.” It wasn’t a question. Not the fall, no. Bato couldn’t have planned it if he tried. But the knots. Zuko’s eyes widened, “You wanted me to try to escape?” Bato rubbed his temples.

“I just needed to see what you’d do. Obviously, I-” The man trailed off, “Hakoda is going to kill me.” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Zuko shivered again, Bato leaned forward. He grabbed Zuko’s hands and rubbed them gently in his to warm them, “You didn’t push me, I fell. You couldn’t stop that from happening.”

“Look brat, I doubt the specifics are going to matter,” Hakoda wouldn’t believe him anyway, “and no one else saw it happen.” 

“I’d tell Hakoda what happened,” Zuko said. 

“And why would you do that, brat?” Bato asked, brows wrinkling in half bemusement. He paused his rubbing of Zuko’s hands, still holding them in his. Zuko bit his lip, more steam pouring from his lips when he released it with the answer.

“Because no one should be punished for something they can’t control.” Bato fell silent. He let the prince’s words sink in as he rubbed the boy’s hands until the color returned to his fingers. Zuko nodded, shaking off the second’s hold to repeat the process on his damp feet. 

“And what about the parts I could control, hmm?” His fingers ghosted over the back of Zuko’s hand in reminder of the slap. Zuko shrugged.

“Like you said, you needed to see what I’d do. Besides I don’t think you were in control then either,” The prince muttered softly. Bato raised an eyebrow for an explanation. In response, Zuko reached forward and gently tapped a strip of Bato’s exposed collarbone that had been revealed when he removed his parka. Dark patches dappled his skin. Burns. Scars that plunged lower beneath his tunic, hidden from view. Bato stiffened at the touch.

“Don’t,” He ordered through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko pulled his hand back. He should have known better. His fingers traced the burn on the side of his face, “I don’t want Hakoda angry with you for what you did because you were afraid of me.”

“But you were afraid too.” Bato said, not bothering to deny his feelings in the situation. 

“I’m used to it,” Zuko’s quiet response made Bato’s insides twist, “But I don’t know if we should tell him.”

“What?”

“Like you said, no one else saw it. He might not believe me and still be angry at you. And,” his lips twitched in a strange expression, “if he finds out, I’m never going to be allowed to come up on deck again.” Bato’s mouth fell open, stunned into silence. He pressed his hand against his mouth, threw his head back, and let a deep throaty laugh, “I’m serious.” Bato chuckles slowed, he wiped a fleck of moisture from the corner of his eye.

He rang out Zuko’s dripping things, hanging them over a crate to dry in the sun before he turned back to the fire bender.

“I know, kid. I’ve just never made a treaty with the Fire Nation before.” Zuko’s brows wrinkled, mouth opening in protest, but the man continued, “But Hakoda is going to know something happened.”

“Something, but not this,” Zuko mumbled. He held out a hesitant hand, still a little unsteady from the cold. Bato stared at the offered hand. Not quite believing himself, he shook the boy’s hand. After nearly killing Hakoda’s fire brat, what were some lies on top of that? 

“If he had thought this was a possibility, I doubt he would have let you out of his sight in the first place.” Bato nodded. He paused at the sound of laughter and footsteps on the deck. Holding up a hand, he pulled the hood over Zuko’s damp hair and peered around the stack of crates, “Videk, Tarsi,” He called, “stop loafing around. You can both take care of these fish if you have nothing better to do with yourselves.”

Zuko’s eyes widened. He leaned forward to snatch the loose rope end, tucking it beneath the parka just before the two young crewmen rounded the corner, “I’d take care of it myself, but it seems his delicateness can’t handle the smell.” Flushing, Zuko scowled at Bato from beneath the hood.

One of the two wrinkled his nose, stepped around the vomit, and offered Zuko a knowing, sympathetic smile. Zuko recognized him as the one from the war room, the one who gave him the fruit. He nodded back from beneath the hood.

If either Videk or Tarsi thought it was strange the fire bender was wearing Bato’s parka and clearly damp, neither mentioned it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I love to know what you think, so let me know!  
> And here are two bonus scenes for your reading pleasure...  
> Alternate bonus scene:  
>  _Zuko (staring up from the water): ...  
>  Bato: Hakoda is going to kill me.  
> Zuko: Probably.  
> Bato: Is there any version of this where Hakoda doesn’t kill me?  
> Zuko: The one where he doesn’t find out about it.  
> Bato: How likely is that to happen?  
> Zuko: Depends. How much seal jerky are you offering?  
> Bato: ...A lot. Can you just grab the rope, please?  
> Zuko: ...Nah (Spider climbs up the side of the ship)  
> Bato: …You could do that the whole time?  
> Zuko: Yep.  
> Bato: …  
> Zuko: … (Mouth full of jerky already) Pl’sure do’in bu’nus wiff you. ___  
> __  
> _Alternate bonus scene 2.0:  
>  _Bato & Zuko : ...Don’t tell Dad... ____  
> _  
> _  
> _  
> _💚Chronically yours💚___  
> _  
>   
> 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Bato's plan to keep things to themselves gets a little more complicated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I have no control over what happens in this story...I just type.  
> I totally understand how Zuko felt while he was searching for the Avatar.
> 
> But I cannot believe that we're past 10,000 hits! I'm so excited about that. Thanks to everybody for your comments, questions, and engagements with this story. It makes me so incredibly happy.

Videk scooped fish from the deck into his bucket, keeping one eye on Zuko as he worked. He crouched, his spindly legs splayed to avoid dragging through the mess on the boards. 

“So, how did Bato end up on leash duty?” He asked. Zuko shrugged, the roll of his shoulders further agitated his rope burns. He winced. His breath catching in his throat. Turning to Bato, Zuko gave him a pleading look to supply the answer.

“I pried him away from the chief, he’s going back in a few hours.” The second answered, doing his best to look bored. He ordered Tarsi off to go find a mop, while Videk tried again to get an answer from Zuko, looking pointedly at the prince’s damp hair.

“Are you alright, Prince?” He asked. Zuko stiffened. Had he seen what happened? He jerked his head in a nod. 

“Fine,” He mumbled. Videk snorted and tossed another fish into the bucket. 

“Sure about that?” Zuko nodded again, “I can go get the chief if you want?” He lowered his voice, like Bato wouldn’t be able to hear him. Zuko bristled. He shook his head, “Because if something’s wrong, Hakoda would want to know. He-”

“Videk, stop badger-moleing the kid. You’re making him uncomfortable,”

“Since when has Prince Zuko’s comfort been your priority?” Videk stood, pulling himself to his full height. He didn’t quite fill out his coat yet, and the few dark hairs that sprouted on his angled jaw somehow made him look even younger, like he wasn’t even old enough to be on the ship in the first place. Zuko opened his mouth, trying to push himself to his feet. 

Bato rolled his eyes. He lightly pressed one of Zuko’s shoulders back down before the loose end of the rope could fall from the parka, or the boy could collapse and spook Videk enough to send him running off for Hakoda. The fire bender flicked his fingers off but settled back onto the deck as he watched the exchange continue.

“Since the prince and I have come to an arrangement. It’s really none of your business.”

“I’d like to hear that from him,” Videk rocked on his heels, the leather of his boots grinding the net into the weathered boards. Zuko grimaced. Wasteful. It weakened the fibers of the rope, someone would have to fix it. Or replace it. His mind was drifting to budgets, wondering how often the Water Tribe could afford to dole out money for new nets. 

He stirred from his thoughts with Videk’s approach, the other man knelt before him and leaned close to slide back his flopping hood. Zuko shivered as his wet hair was exposed to the brisk air, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from Videk. The expression on his face was too familiar, like the cousin who once knelt before him to teach him about swords while he waited for his first sparks, “Look, Prince, something happened. If you don’t want Hakoda to know about it, that’s fine. I don’t have to say anything. But I want to hear you say it.” Zuko bit his lip. He glanced over at Bato, but the second just rolled his eyes and gestured for him to speak.

“You don’t need to get Hakoda.” He paused, gaze flickering upward, “Please don’t.” Zuko shivered again, he pulled up the hood against the chill. Videk’s mouth twisted. He sighed, holding Zuko in a long stare.

“Can you tell me I have nothing to be worried about?” He asked. Zuko’s eyebrows scrunched. Even if he did see what happened, Videk shouldn’t be worried about him. He shouldn’t have a reason to care. Not understanding the need for reassurances, Zuko relented,

“Yes,” He nodded, “I’m fine,” He paused, thinking how Uncle could smooth anything over and trying to mimic what he might say, “but I appreciate your concern.” He glanced down, “Can you get off the net? You’re tearing holes in it.” Bato raised a hand to his mouth to hide his twitching lips. Videk stared down at his boots. He shifted off the net, raising one of his eyebrows at Zuko.

“Right because we’re more concerned about a _net_ than we are about that you’re clearly wet and can’t stand at the moment.” Scowling, Zuko pressed his hand against one of the crates behind him, ready to prove Videk wrong, “Don’t do that. That wasn’t a challenge, Prince, it was a joke.” He crossed his arms and settled back to the boards.

Tarsi returned, the silence between them overtaken by the wet slaps of the mop against the deck. Zuko stared at the holes in the net. He shook his head, a frown set across his face.

“Do you have any line?” He asked Bato. The man shrugged, rummaging in one of the crates behind him for a small bundle of line. Zuko took it without a word, leaned forward to take a section of the net, and began to repair it with experienced, deft fingers.

All three crewmen stopped to watch Zuko. Stunned into silence by the prince working the net as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing. Zuko noticed the unnatural quiet, he raised his head and flushed. The silent question obvious on their faces, “I lived on a ship for the last three years of my life.” He let his gaze drop down again. The squelches of mopping continued, “I didn’t want to be a useless idiot on deck, so I learned things from the crew.” His tongue protruded in the effort of sorting out one particularly stubborn knot. 

“You’re going to have to cut that one.” Bato leaned over him. Zuko shook his head, stiffening. It felt like some kind of trap. He saw the second’s bewildered expression at his reaction. 

“You will, you mean?” Bato blinked, “Prisoners shouldn’t have weapons.” He’d forgotten for a moment who he was dealing with. Taking the offending section of net from the prince, Bato cut it for him before handing it back without a word. 

“So,” Videk’s lips were twitching, repressing chuckles, “falling off ships is a habit for you, then, or are you just unlucky?” Zuko stiffened. He shook his head, staring off toward the horizon.

“I am unlucky, but that’s not what happened,” He muttered. Shivering again, Zuko burrowed deeper into Bato’s parka. He pulled his knees into his chest, stretching the burns across his back until he had another excuse for the prickling flecks building in the corners of his eyes, “I didn’t fall off my ship.”

“Alright, bad joke, I get it,” Videk held up his hands in mock surrender. He plopped down beside Zuko, examining the boy’s knotwork with a low whistle, “Look you don’t have to tell me about it but show me how you did that, would you?” Zuko nodded. Glad for the distraction, he grabbed the loose line again and demonstrated the tight loop through one of the gaping holes in the net, slow enough for Videk to copy him. 

Tarsi finished the mopping and collected the fish remaining on the deck, before joining them. They worked together in a steady, close to silent rhythm until the sun began to slip below the horizon. 

Zuko squinted to finish his last knot, leaning heavily on his elbow as he finished. The prince hid a yawn behind one of his hands. Bato barked a laugh at the weak attempt to hide it.

"Tired?” He asked. Zuko shrugged, “I’ll take you back. I’m sure Hakoda is losing his mind with worry. It shocks me he actually managed to keep himself away.” He helped Zuko shake off the parka, replacing it with the boy’s own dried jacket in its place. Then gingerly slipped the rope back around his waist, just tight enough not to slide and further irritate his burns, “That okay, kid?” Zuko nodded, “For the record, I’m not sure this is necessary anymore.”

“Was it ever necessary?” Videk piped up, grinning as Bato cuffed the back of his head without any force, “You’re not being very nice to someone who has information that could get you murdered.” Zuko’s stomach fluttered.

“And you’re not being very respectful to someone who knows you both weren’t at your posts if you saw what you think you saw.” Tarsi and Videk winced at each other, giving Bato sheepish smiles on their way to collect the buckets of fish and return back below. Zuko bit his lip, but they didn’t seem worried about the exchange at all. Maybe it was just the threat of murder was greater than whatever punishment they’d receive for slacking and minor mutiny. Or maybe they just had nothing to fear from Bato, at all. 

Pushing himself to his feet, still lost in thought, Zuko’s ankle tangled in the extra slack. He fell over the edge of one of the crates and landed hard on the deck. Bato swore, leaning over to examine the crumpled boy.

Zuko pushed himself up to a sitting position. He gave his ankle a tentative roll, hissing in pain and staring up at the second. Bato pinched the bridge of his nose. Zuko tried to stand on it, but the leg buckled beneath him from the pain. Rolling his eyes, Bato leaned down and lifted Zuko. He shifted the boy to his back, feeling the boy’s warm hands rest around his shoulders, “Well, at least we have something to tell Hakoda, now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Videk is just running wild through this story, he wasn't even in the original draft and he apparently took offense to that. 
> 
> No bonus scene material today, disappointing I know... but I'd love your comments, questions, rants, predictions, discussions anyway (heck, I'd even take some rope puns...I'm probably going to regret asking for these...there's no probably about this)
> 
> 💚 Chronically Yours 💚


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko is worse for the wear after his time with Bato, leaving him in need of some care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people,  
> The rope puns were great to those who participated, honestly they couldn't have been better if you _tied _...sorry couldn't help it._  
>  Here is your chapter, I hope it finds you well (or at least better than Zuko is feeling right now). 💚_

“What are we going to tell him?” Zuko asked, he tightened his hold on Bato’s shoulders as the man carried him back below deck. His ankle throbbed inside his boot, making the prince tense up. The second adjusted his grip on Zuko’s legs as the boy shivered against him. 

“As little as possible,” Bato grunted, “Focus on what we want him to know, downplay the rest. Look, I’m sorry about the ankle and, well, everything else. It’s a good distraction.” Zuko gritted his teeth at the mention of his throbbing ankle. His labored breathing filling the passageway, in opposition to the steady brushing of the rope as it dragged on the boards behind them, “And maybe it’ll convince him to lose this thing. Since you’re a model _prisoner_ anyway.” Zuko’s insides twisted at Bato’s tone on the word prisoner like he didn’t mean it. 

“Why did you say it like that?” He asked, his voice brittle, tilting his head forward to catch Bato’s eye. The man stared back at him with an appraising glance, one of his lips twitched in his own private joke. He shrugged and started down the passageway again.

“If you don’t know, I’m not going to be the one to tell you.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed, but Bato walked again and tightened his hold on his legs against another round of shaking. He stopped in front of the door and knocked on it, “Delivery,” He said, pushing the door open. Hakoda’s bewildered gaze followed Zuko riding Bato into the room. His humor filtered as Zuko stiffened, and his face turned deathly white when his foot was jostled, “he’s only a slightly damaged package. But no scratches,” Bato offered. He carried Zuko to the bed, setting him down gently.

“It wasn’t Bato’s fault. I just fell,” Zuko blurted out before Hakoda could ask. The truth no matter which event they were discussing. Hakoda rushed to the bed. He eased Zuko’s boot off his foot. Wincing, Zuko’s fists tightened. Little sparks crackled along the insides of his fingers and his palms. He took a deep breath to settle himself and then another, the sparks dying down on their own.

“Mmm, I imagine you did fall when he pulled you over,” Hakoda said, tone dry as he examined Zuko’s red, quickly swelling ankle in the flickering light of the cabin but the boy shook his head. He snatched Hakoda’s arm to make the man look at him. 

“I promise that’s not what happened. I stood up too fast and got tangled in the rope. My foot slammed into a crate when I fell. That’s it, Hakoda.” Hakoda sighed. Even if it wasn’t what happened, Zuko truly believed it. The boy couldn’t lie to save his soul. His amber eyes were an open book. He peeled Zuko’s fingers off his wrist, the firebender was too charged to prevent an accident on his own if the flickering lights around the room were any indication.

“Look, what happened aside, if you can hold him down for a minute, Chief, I’ll set the ankle.” Zuko stiffened, shaking his head. “Sorry kid, but it’s got to be done. That won’t heal on its own.” Bato rolled up his sleeves, found a clean rag to wrap the ankle, and returned to the bedside, “Think you’ll need to be behind him, ‘Koda.” He glanced up at Zuko, “It’s not that I think you’re going to do it on purpose, but you’re already worked up and I’ve had enough fire thrown at me for a lifetime.” Zuko didn’t answer, but Hakoda nodded. He slid behind Zuko on the bed, feeling the boy’s wiry frame quiver. Clicking his tongue, he caught one of Zuko’s wrists and began rubbing circles with his thumb into his pale skin. Amber eyes followed the trail of Hakoda’s thumb, dragged into a half-lull, allowing him to be caught off guard when the man’s arms settled around him to hold him in place. 

“It’s going to be fine, prickliness,” Hakoda muttered in his ear, “we’ll do it fast and be done with it.” His arms moved to close around the prince, but the boy fought off the hold. 

“Wait,” Zuko leaned over and snatched his waterskin off the nest, “I don’t want to hurt you.” His glazed eyes traveled to Bato, “Either of you,” Zuko mumbled. He clutched the skin, “Okay, just do it.” The prince squeezed his eyes shut. He burrowed into Hakoda’s chest, feeling the man’s arms lock around him. The burns on his back and shoulders stung with the sudden pressure against them, but he didn’t pull away again as Bato positioned his hands.

The chief whispered words of comfort in Zuko’s ears, but he didn’t hear a word of it. He was muttering, focusing all his waning energy into the waterskin and not lashing out at either of the men holding him down. On not losing control. On not burning down the ship. The chief held him tighter on a signal from the other man. Bato’s hands touched the swelling joint.

Zuko yelped. The waterskin exploded in his hands, filling the room with steam. All the water had evaporated from the skin, leaving only vapors behind. Bato waved the steam away, making quick work of wrapping the boy’s ankle and releasing his hold.

“That was something, kid. There, it’s done. You can let him go, Hakoda. The foot just needs to be kept still and propped up.” Hakoda nodded though he had no intention of letting go of Zuko, changing his hold to let the boy burrow deeper into his arms with his legs off to the side. Zuko shook. Tears ran down his cheeks. Too spent to stop himself. The chief reached over for a pillow from the nest, propping Zuko’s ankle up before he rubbed up and down the boy’s arm. He stared at Bato over the top of the boy’s head.

“So, before it ended like this, how did it go holding the rope?” He swayed gently to settle Zuko, “He doesn’t seem as bothered by you as he was before, or you him.”

“Honestly Chief, the kid surprised me. I tried to push him to his limits, but he didn’t snap. I purposely loosened the knots to see if he’d escape and the kid snuck behind my back to tighten them again. He helped fix a net better than most of the crew can, without being asked. He also insisted on telling you what happened after he fell because he didn’t think anyone should be punished for something they couldn’t control. Guess it’s about time I do the same for him.”

Hakoda nodded, smiling fondly down at the boy in his arms, “He asleep?” The chief shook his head, a low chuckle escaping his lips as his answer came to mind.

“Not yet, I think he’s just at the end of his rope.” Zuko nodded against Hakoda’s chest. Bato remembered the rope around his own waist, loosening the knots and slipping out of it, “Let’s get it off you too,” The chief said. He shifted back from Zuko enough to start unwinding the knot from the boy’s middle. Frowning, Zuko shook his head. His stomach twisting at the thought of its removal, something about Bato’s strange wording of prisoner playing in his head.

“I want it on.” He put his hands over the knots, to stop the man from untying them. Hakoda caught Zuko’s chin in his hand and lifted it until their eyes met.

“Zuko, you can’t even stand. There’s no point.” Zuko crossed his arms over the knots, glowering at Hakoda through the remnants of his tears, “Fine.” He snatched the loop from Bato and slipped it back over his own head, leaving it looser than before, “Satisfied, prickliness?” Zuko nodded before he leaned against Hakoda again with a muffled whine. Rolling his eyes, Hakoda brushed the tears away with the pads of his thumbs before he closed his arms around the boy, "Shh, it's over now."

Bato watched the tender scene in bewilderment. No, the prince wasn’t at all what he’d expected. He’d just been offered the chance to be off the rope and yet he’d refused. They set his ankle and the kid seemed more concerned someone else was going to get hurt. Shaking his head, he turned toward the door.

“I’ll head out, Chief. Take care of the kid,” Bato said.

“So, he’s not the fire brat anymore?” Hakoda asked softly, holding Zuko closer when the boy shifted and nearly upset his ankle. Bato shrugged. He hadn’t noticed the change until Hakoda mentioned it, but it no longer seemed appropriate to call him that.

“Guess not. Seems you’re not the only one who got attached.” He started to walk out, to leave the two of them alone, until Hakoda sniffed the air. His eyes narrowed.

“Bato, why does Zuko smell like salt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, no one said it was going to be easy to get something like this past Hakoda. 
> 
> I don't think this is really a cliffhanger, but please enjoy this bonus alternate scene to help make-up for it anyway:  
>  _Zuko: What do you mean I’m not a real prisoner?  
>  Bato: Ask your dad.  
> Zuko: I don’t want to ask the Fatherlord anything.  
> Bato: Um...You know what, forget I said anything, kid. You’re definitely a real prisoner.  
> Videk: I'm gonna tell him.  
> Bato: Don't you dare...and where did you even come from? ___  
> I 💚 You all and knowing what you think!  
>  💚Chronically Yours💚


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the matter and Zuko can be put to sleep, Hakoda asks questions and doesn't like all of Zuko's answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends,  
> Please enjoy this beast of a chapter. It definitely went differently than I expected it to go.

Zuko stiffened in Hakoda’s arms. The chief glanced down, his eyes flicking to the boy’s ankle to make sure it hadn’t been disturbed. But that didn’t seem to be it. He held the boy closer to settle him, another unmistakable waft of bitter salt carrying to his nose. Reminiscent of the stench of the sea rolling off him when they’d dragged Zuko’s pale form from the waves weeks before.

Bato paused to lean against the wall, trying to look disinterested in the conversation. His fingers traced the burn spots left behind from Zuko’s hands as he’d been led from the room. 

“Salt?” He asked. Hakoda nodded, “I don’t know, we were working on a net that was just dragged in.” Hakoda shook his head, it wasn’t that. If that had been it he could understand the boy’s hands smelling like the sea, but the smell permeated Zuko’s hair. It didn’t make sense.“Are you sure this isn’t a fire bender smell? It’s not like you’ve spent a lot of time cuddling one in the past,” Zuko flushed at the use of the term cuddling, but before he could work himself up to pull away Hakoda shook his head, tucking him closer into his arms to settle him.

“Bato, I sleep next to him. I think I’d notice if this smell was a regular occurrence.” Shrugging Bato let his gaze drift to the drawings on the wall, seemingly unphased by the continued line of questioning despite his refusal to meet Hakoda’s gaze, “And if that was really it, Zuko wouldn’t be nervous. I can tell you are,” Hakod turned his attention to Zuko, “I just don’t know why.” Zuko shrugged. His attention turning to the rope, his fingers traced the twists of braided fibers until Hakoda’s hands caught his to stop them, “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” Zuko nodded, “I’ll stop my interrogations then, for now,” He relented. His gaze flicked back over to Bato, as he continued to speak to Zuko, “Especially because I doubt  _ you  _ did anything wrong. You can go, Bato.” The second shrugged.

“Alright, Uncle Bato’s being kicked out, kid. I’ll come by later with some ice if you think it won’t just melt.” He hovered in the doorway, beginning his retreat into the passageway beyond.

“It’ll melt,” Zuko mumbled automatically against Hakoda just before the door swung shut behind him. Hakoda’s chest rumbled in silent humor, the motion brought Zuko back to himself. His drifting eyelashes fluttered open. He grumbled, owlish eyes finding the chief’s as he shook his head. 

“Let’s get you settled in your bed, fire ferret.” Zuko shivered out of the chief’s warm hold, glad when the man bundled him into the nest of blankets and propped up the foot, “How’s the pain?” Hakoda asked. Zuko shrugged, he tested his wrapped ankle and winced. Schooling his expression, he turned back to the man and mumbled,

“It’s fine,” Hakoda snorted. He ruffled Zuko’s ponytail. The teen grunted, knocking the chief’s hand away without any force in the action.

“Is it everyone in the Fire Nation who can’t lie, or is that just you?” Hakoda tucked the disturbed blankets tighter around his scowling charge. Zuko winced when the blankets knocked his ankle and a gasp slipped out of his lips before he could hold it in. Glancing up, he saw Hakoda’s raised eyebrow and squirmed.

“Just me,” Zuko said, resigned, “another reason I’m a reject,” He muttered, not meeting the chief’s gaze until the man caught his chin and gently guided it back up, “Even if my father would take me back, he’d be ashamed. I’m not supposed to be like this. Weak.” Heat prickled behind his eyes.

The chief massaged his temples. Something deep inside him wanted to ram the blockade surrounding the Fire Nation, storm the palace, and give the Fire Lord a piece of his mind for every way he did wrong by his son. Instead, Hakoda had to face the pieces left behind by the other man’s damage. Sighing, he stared down at the scarred boy. He leaned forward to brush a single tear off Zuko’s scar with the pad of his thumb.

“Are you equating showing emotions and wanting comfort to weakness?” Zuko nodded, “Do you think I’m weak?” The boy shook his head, “Do I not show emotions?” Zuko bit his lip, shrugging, unsure of his answer. Hakoda  _ did  _ show emotions. He stiffened as the chief gathered him back onto the mattress, adjusting his position so they were face to face while taking care not to jostle his foot, “Let me try this a different way. Tell me again what you said to Bato about whatever happened?”

Zuko didn’t answer. He stared at his toes instead. Hakoda sighed. The man shifted so Zuko leaned against him, “I’ll tell you, then. You said people shouldn’t be punished for things they can’t control. So, don’t punish yourself.”

“But I shouldn’t-” Zuko crossed his arms, “I’m not a kid and I’m not your-” The prince trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence, or if he wanted to finish it. He pulled away, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Hakoda ran the rope through his hands, looping it to close the distance between them. The prince glanced back down at the rope, amber eyes flicking back to the chief.

“Your foot should be still,” He scolded softly, “Come back here, please.” Zuko slid back over to the chief and let himself be settled against the man again before he continued, “I think this situation is confusing. We’ve crossed some lines that go beyond the standard prisoner situations, don’t you think?” Zuko nodded from his spot against the chief’s chest, “Is that why you’re so insistent on the rope staying on? It’s a level of security for you in your position, maybe?” The boy shrugged. Though Hakoda was fairly certain he was correct. Zuko’s fingers drifted down to the knots. Hakoda watched Zuko’s hands. He didn’t stop him, just watching as the boy tightened them. Pale knuckles white and clenched around the rope, “You can relax, I’m not going to take it off. You can stay as my fire ferret.”

“Not forever,” Zuko muttered. 

“No but you won’t want this forever,” Hakoda wrapped one of his fists around Zuko’s, holding it softly, “What feels safe and maybe even comforting now,” he tightened his grip on the boy’s hand, squeezing it firmly then harder. Just short of discomfort. Zuko’s brow wrinkled trying to shake off the hold, “is going to feel restricting one day.” He explained as he released the hold, half-expecting Zuko to bolt to the furthest reaches of the rope and bed. But the boy remained still. Too still, “Zuko?”

“What is going to happen to me? You said we’d discuss it.” The chief rubbed his temples.

“I don’t think now is the time for this discussion.” Hakoda guided Zuko down into the nest, tucking the blankets around him again, “You’ve had a long day. You’re exhausted. That I can tell, even if you won’t tell me what happened.” Zuko’s gaze dropped, guilty.

“You don’t know, do you?” Zuko’s voice broke the silence, watching the chief shake his head slowly.

“Not a clue, your prickliness. But nothing is changing for now, and whatever happens, you’ll be safe. So, sleep. I’ll think and maybe I’ll get a stroke of inspiration.” Zuko nodded slowly. He turned on his side, careful of his bandaged foot. His eyes still open and expectant, “But I suppose you’re going to want to hear a story first, even if you won’t tell me yours?” Another nod. Hakoda sighed, “Alright,” he flopped on his side, “have I told you about the time Katara froze Sokka in a block of ice for breaking her favorite doll?” Zuko froze.

“Your daughter’s a water bender?” Hakoda nodded. Zuko’s stomach sunk through the floorboards. Images flashed through his head of the fiery Water Tribe girl with tendrils of water swirling around her before they slammed into him. The tall boy always at her side. Their eyes and Hakoda’s the same blue. He whispered, “Does your son have a boomerang?” Hakoda nodded again, head cocking to the side.

Words failing him, Zuko reached into the stiff collar of his jacket to reveal a small object he’d managed to smuggle past his original search by the Water Tribe crew. It’s glossy, circular pendant turned and the familiar design caught the light of flickering lanterns and the air in Hakoda’s throat. The faded, torn ribbon slipping through Zuko’s fingers. Hakoda caught it in his palm before it fell into the sea of blankets between them. 

Kya’s necklace.

Katara’s necklace.

“We’ve met,” Zuko whispered again with his head bowed, waiting. He startled as Hakoda’s warm hand captured his chin and led his eyes back up. The grip was still gentle, but less tender than before as Hakoda’s muscles tensed beneath the surface of his skin. His tone, also lacking the same softness as before, made Zuko feel as if the man had lashed him with the rope still around his middle.

“You’re going to have to tell me more than that, Zuko.” Zuko’s eyes widened, words rushing to his throat and dying there in a tangled mess. There were millions of things to say, but none of them seemed right. He opened his mouth, let it close again, and shook his head. 

Hakoda stared at him, struck with the realization that Zuko didn’t seem to understand what information was most important. Why would he? If the boy’s words in the war room were any indication, there wasn’t a parent who valued his existence. Of course, he couldn’t understand Hakoda’s primary concern, “Zuko, are they alive?” The boy’s eyebrows furrowed, nodding. The chief’s hold on his jaw softened, “I’m going to need that in words.”

“Yes, last time I saw them they were fine.” Hakoda let himself breathe with Zuko’s words, “We fought, but I didn’t hurt them. If anything it was the other way around.” He shivered at the memory of water rushing around him. The pad of Hakoda’s thumb stroked Zuko’s jaw bone, some of the tenderness returning in a way that made his chest pang.

“Why were you in the South Pole?” The man’s tone was soft, unreadable. Zuko sat up straighter. He squeezed one of the pillows from the nest in his arms.

“Looking for the Avatar, but your kids aren’t in the South Pole anymore. He’s a kid too, the Avatar. They’re traveling with him on his flying sky bison.” Hakoda’s eyebrows raised at the sudden burst of information. He rubbed his temples, not awake enough to be having this conversation in the slightest.

“I’m not sure which part of that to respond to first,” He gave Zuko another appraising stare. The prince’s eyes were half-glazed over and wild with the efforts of keeping them focused and open. His shoulders were sagging against the pillow in his arms, against his will and better efforts of keeping himself taut. It was all the truth, and Hakoda was sure Zuko would tell him anything, even the less savory details. But he wasn’t certain he wanted to know everything “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head on one of those crates when Bato pulled you down earlier?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood. But Zuko’s features sharpened. 

“No, I didn’t hit my head when I  _ fell _ . It’s not funny, it’s all true.” Hakoda held up his hands in surrender, his slight fishing for information caught and rejected. Zuko flinched, settled, and scowled.

“Alright, alright, and why did you need to find the Avatar so badly that you let yourself get beat up by my kids and chased them all the way around the world?” Zuko mumbled something into the pillow in his lap. Hakoda pushed it down, “Try that again, since it seems neither of us is getting any sleep tonight.”

“My father said he’d end my banishment and restore my honor if I could bring him the Avatar.” Hakoda stiffened, fighting to stay calm when he addressed the prince again.

“So, to make sure I have this right, your father burns your face and kicks you out of your home for something you did as a child...but he taunts you with a promise that you can come home if you complete an impossible task. And even if you could complete it, would involve handing another child over to him?” Zuko was bristling and missing the waterskin he’d destroyed. He gritted his teeth and fought to keep his bending under control.

“First, I was thirteen, not a child. He banished me for being disrespectful and being dishonorable. Also, it’s not impossible to catch the Avatar. I’ve caught him more than once. It’s keeping him that’s hard. Especially with your kids around.” Hakoda massaged his temples, suppressing a grin at Zuko’s annoyance with his children.

“He’s not the only one who’s hard to control.” He reached forward for Zuko’s wrists, beginning to rub them to try and settle the charged boy, “Thirteen is still a child, Zuko. You’re still a child now,” He muttered, before softening his tone further, “But you can’t believe you deserved what happened to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Zuko pulled away. None of it sounded very honorable the way the chief put it. And what did it matter whether he deserved it or not? It happened. No amount of talk could change it. Hakoda would never understand. He turned on his side, his back to the man. The motion jostled his ankle, his eyes prickling from more than the pain.

“Zuko-” Hakoda knew he’d pushed the prince too hard. The boy was too exhausted, his feelings on the matter too raw.

“Goodnight, Hakoda,” The boy mumbled into his pillow, ending the conversation. Hakoda sighed.

“Goodnight, Zuko.” He flopped back on his pillow, at the end of his rope with the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least Zuko's finally going to get some rest... 
> 
> It wasn't a happy chapter, but I'd still love to know what you think! 
> 
> P.S. I thought there would only be one title reference, but I guess Hakoda needed to be at the end of his rope too...
> 
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peace-offerings, Hakuddles, & Teatime interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, apparently, half the Dadkoda fics in the world updated yesterday, myself included.   
> I hope everyone is having fun catching up, but here's another update to add to your growing reading stack!  
> 💚 Happy reading 💚

Hakoda opened his eyes and groaned. He rolled over toward the nest beside him, finding it empty. One of his hands pressed down into the furs. Cool to the touch, like the boy hadn’t been there in hours. Throwing back his blankets, he sat up and scanned the room. His eyes followed the trail of the rope, finding the other end beneath his desk. Zuko’s paintbrush fell from his fingers. It clattered to the wood floor. The boy froze, almost hidden beneath the shadows of the desk.

“So, we’re back to the hiding, are we?” Zuko didn’t answer, “How did you manage to get over there anyway?” The crates beneath the bed hadn’t been disturbed and Hakoda liked to think he was a light enough sleeper to rouse if a half-hobbled teenage fire bender climbed over him. No answer. Changing the topic, he asked, “What have you been drawing?” The boy pushed two sheets of paper across the floor, their dark lines taking Hakoda’s breath away. Sokka and Katara’s faces stared back out of him. Their faces were older, less round around the edges than he remembered but they were unmistakably his children.

“They don’t smile when I’m around, so I couldn’t draw them happy,” Zuko whispered. He pushed himself to the front edge of the table. Leaning against the table leg, he watched the man lift the drawings with reverence. The chief’s eyes swam. Hakoda held the pages at a distance so he wouldn’t drip on them. He sniffled.

The chief set the drawings down, letting out a long breath. He sunk back onto the bed and held his arms out for Zuko. Hakoda watched Zuko bite his lip, but cap the ink bottle and climbed out from under the table. Limping, the prince found himself pulled into Hakoda’s arms. He leaned into the man’s shoulder to take the weight off his ankle.

“They’re perfect.” Zuko hid his face in the crook of Hakoda’s neck at the praise, “You outdid yourself, fire ferret.” A soft shrug followed the continued compliment, “Am I correct in guessing that these are supposed to be some kind of peace offering for last night?” Zuko nodded.“And what would you like for your peace offering, hmm?” He nudged Zuko with his shoulder. The boy shrugged, “There has to be something?” Another shrug, a slower one. Hakoda caught the hesitation, grinning “Ah, there is.” He guided Zuko to the bed, careful of his ankle and the rope.

Zuko watched him stand and cross the room with the drawings in hand. Hakoda pinned them to the wall. The man’s hand lingering over their faces longer than he needed to. Something panged in Zuko’s chest. Something he felt before. 

Azula throwing her first sparks before him. Her dancing through forms as he fumbled.

Disappointment from his father and pity from others as she soared, while he crashed and  _ burned _ .

But Hakoda turned back to him, stanching the flow of the boy’s rising jealousy under the force of his smile. One all for Zuko, “So, what is it, fire ferret?” Zuko grimaced, flicking the fringe of one of the blankets, “As long as it’s something reasonable and safe, I can’t think of why I’d say no.” The boy flushed, “What’s got you so worked up about telling me?”

“It’s stupid,” Hakoda gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, shaking his head.

“Not if it’s important to you,” The man responded, “just tell me.”

“Is there tea on the ship?” Came the mumbled reply. Not even formed as a request, but an indirect question. Hakoda schooled his twitching lips. Of all the things for a teenager to ask for, that wasn’t something he could have ever considered. But Zuko wasn’t a normal teenager, he supposed.

“Tea?” He asked, to make sure he heard him right. The boy nodded, “I’m sure I can manage that.” He knelt down, “Watch your foot, prickliness.” He slid one of the crates from beneath the bed, rifling through it. 

Zuko lifted his wrapped foot to the bed, propping it up after a stern gaze from Hakoda. He crossed his arms and watched the search until Hakoda unearthed a small, dented tin with a victorious huff of air, “I think it’s ginseng, but I could be mistaken.” Taking the tin from his hands, Zuko pried off the lid and stuck his nose against the rim of the tin. 

He breathed in the rich, bitter scent and nodded as he recognized the tones of one of his uncle’s favorite teas, “Will that do, prickliness?” Zuko nodded again. Hakoda slid the crate back beneath the bed before fetching the rest of the tea-making supplies. Balancing them on slightly precariously on the bed, a gentle clatter filled the silence between them. A slow heat spread from Zuko’s fingers to the cups, warming the tea with soft vapors of steam rising between them.

He passed over one of the cups to Hakoda, half-smiling when the man tipped toward Zuko’s before taking a sip and Zuko followed suit. The bitter tea passing through his lips. If his eyes were blurring around the edges, he could blame it on the steam. The faint trembling of his mouth hidden behind the rim of the cup. 

Hakoda cleared his throat, rousing Zuko from his thoughts, “Alright prickliness, there were lots of answers last night, but not quite the answers I was looking for. You’ve never been interrogated, formly, and I don’t plan to start. But I’d like to know what happened yesterday.”

“Nothing,” Hakoda scoffed, “Nothing important.” Zuko took another sip of his tea, wishing it was one of Uncle’s more calming blends. Not that they ever helped him before, but nerves were different than tempers. 

“Walk me through your time with Bato, so I can decide what’s important.” Hakoda took another sip of the bitter brew, hiding his grimace behind the rim of the cup so the boy wouldn’t be offended. Zuko seemed to like it well enough, but that was where Hakoda’s enjoyment of the drink ended.

“Mmm,” Zuko hummed over the rim of his cup, blowing more heat into the drink before it could cool, “we went to the crew bunks to get Bato’s knife. We went up on deck. Bato left the knots loose, so I fell when we first came up. He knocked me off my feet when he fixed them,” He admitted before sipping the tea again, “We went to the side so Bato could drag in a fishing net.” Zuko took another long sip of tea, holding it in his mouth longer than he needed to until the tea was cold and the flavor leeched to nothing.

“Zuko?” He swallowed.

“Right sorry, he brought in the net. I fell again,” Zuko’s gaze flitted down to his tea. It wasn’t a lie to not specify where he fell, “So, after that he had me sit down so I’d be out of the way. Mmm, two of the other crew members came to help with the fish. Videk and Tassi?” He asked, the Water Tribe names still strange on his tongue. Hakoda rolled his eyes.

“Tarsi,” He corrected, “of course it would have to be those two. But keep going.”

“Videk ripped holes in the net, so I fixed it with them. After that Bato said he’d bring me back. I stood up too fast, got tangled in the rope, and tripped over the edge of one of the crates. So, Bato carried me back to you. After I fell...and you know the rest.” He shrugged, “That’s about it.”

“That can’t have been everything.” Another shrug, “What about the salt smell?”

“We were out in the sun, maybe it’s sweat?” Hakoda stared at Zuko, the boy’s face unreadable behind the rim of his cup. He shook his head, a low chuckle breaking the silence of the room. 

“Sweat, right. Fine, you win for now. But I’m going to find out what happened, eventually.”

“Doubt it.” Zuko took another sip, drowning his comment and resultant smirk in the last bitter wash of tea, “What’s my prize?” Hakoda raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift as Zuko relaxed with the promised end to questioning. He set his tea aside, with plans to conveniently never pick it up again. A sly grin on his face, he hooked his arm around Zuko’s shoulders. Feeling the momentary winding of the boy’s muscles before he settled back against Hakoda, secure in the hold as the man leaned closer to his good ear and muttered,

“A bath.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since establishing Zuko could draw (and draw well), this has always been a scene I had in mind so I'm so excited I finally got to use it!  
> I'd love to know what you all think. Questions, comments, predictions, & rope related puns are always welcome!   
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's close shave brings up far away memories...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's more to it than that, but I was _at the end of my rope _with this chapter summary.__

Zuko fought with his dripping, but clean hair. It splattered dark droplets on the oversized shirt he’d been given. It kept slipping down on his shoulders and threatening to reveal the freshly stinging rope burns on his back. He tucked the shirt’s collar tighter around his neck and straightened the coils around his waist. Glad for the return of their steady hold.

Glancing back to Hakoda, he raised his hands to his hair and heated them just enough to dry it. A soft cloud of steam filled the air. His dry hair brushing across the back of his shoulders. The boy tried again to wrangle his hair back into its phoenix tail. Pausing in his reading, the chief let his book drop to the bed with an amused chuckle.

“I can help you with it, if you want?” Hakoda offered, the boy shook his head. The chief examined the short layer of dark fuzz growing across the rest of Zuko’s scalp, “It’s growing, you know?” Zuko nodded, his fingers passing over it with a scowl, “Is that what you wanted?” Zuko shook his head, his eyes going dark. After their heated conversation the night before on the subject of honor, he didn’t like the idea of broaching the subject of the meaning of his phoenix tail. Rummaging through his desk for his kit, Hakoda removed his razor and offered it to Zuko. 

Zuko stiffened, shaking his head, “Listen to me,” The boy fell still, “I trust you with a razor if you want to use it yourself, but would you prefer if I shaved it for you?” Cocking his head to the side, his loose hair fell around his shoulder as he considered the offer. He bit his lip, but nodded slowly after a minute, “Are you sure?” 

Zuko nodded again, he stood and limped over to Hakoda. The rope dragged behind him. He dropped back to the floor with his back to the man as directed. The rest of his hair tied up, he tensed against Hakoda’s knee as the edge of the razor entered his line of sight. Hakoda clicked his tongue, lifting the blade away,“We don’t have to do this now.”

“It’s fine, can’t you just tell me about something?” He crossed his arms. 

“That usually ends up with you more upset or nervous than you were in the first place,” Hakoda reminded him, “Why don’t you tell me about something instead?”

“I thought we were done with interrogations?” His jaw set in a sullen line, reproachful.

“I didn’t mean  _ that _ , I meant anything else. Something other than tea that makes you happy, maybe something from when you were younger.” Zuko was quiet. He toyed with the rope as he thought of the right memory, searching for longer than he should have needed to before he finally broached the silence settling between them.

“In the courtyards of our palace,” his eyes drifted closed, “there was this pond with a tree right next to it. It was quiet there. Kind of still. Safe.” Hakoda watched Zuko’s shoulders go slack as he was pulled deeper into the lull of his memory. He gently tipped the boy’s head and made his first glide with the razor, “Nothing else in the palace was,” The boy muttered. He shivered with the next pass of the blade across his scalp, “Well, it wasn’t always still.” Zuko’s lips twitched, “Because when I was four, maybe five? I can’t remember exactly, I snuck two baby turtleducks home from Ember Island and set them loose in the pond. I didn’t know it at the time, but I guess I’d picked a male and female. So, then there were,” He blushed, but stayed pliant as Hakoda redirected his head to the other side, “...more turtleducks and they kept coming back, no matter how many times the servants tried to get rid of them.” The rope stopped twisting in his fingers. His chest puffed, lips twitching more at the memories of the persistent little creatures returning simply because Zuko wanted them there. No one ever found out he was responsible for it either, though his mother had her suspicions at the time. 

The man stayed silent, focused on the task at hand but found himself chuckling despite his better efforts. But his laughter didn’t seem to spook the prince, “So, they were always there. Whenever things got too much, I’d come out and take care of them. Someone had to look out for them.” Hakoda clicked his tongue, wondering who was supposed to be looking out for Zuko but held his opinions to himself. The boy peeked open one of his amber eyes, “Are you done yet?” Hakoda smiled, nodded, and set the razor aside. Zuko let the rope fall across his lap.

The prince’s fingers traced his smooth scalp again, “Thank you.” Hakoda ran his fingers through the remaining phoenix tail, smoothing out the tangles. The boy didn’t knock his hand away for once.

“It sounds like it was a nice place, even better with your additions,” He lifted Zuko by his underarms, depositing him on one of the arms of his chair to take the pressure off Zuko’s bandaged foot. He shifted the rope, letting the extra length coil to the floor. Before the boy could become too disgruntled in the current arrangement, he fished a piece of jerky from the bottom drawer of his desk and passed it over. 

“It was.” His gaze flicked away, but his tone stayed steady. 

“Do you miss it?”

“The pond?” Question half-garbled in jerky, shaking his head Hakoda turned his attention to the pictures on the wall above his desk. 

“Home, you don’t seem to draw it.” In the sea of pictures spreading across Hakoda’s wall there were mostly objects or animals, and now his children. But nothing that seemed distinctly Fire Nation or reminiscent of a palace.

“It’s...It’s not mine to miss.” His features and tone hardened in a way that made Hakoda’s chest ache. Part of him wished the boy would just crumble. Like anyone his age should. But the shell he armored himself with wasn’t always so easily shed. He coaxed Zuko into his arms, propping the boy’s bandaged foot on his deck between the papers before he settled his hold around him. 

“Of course it is, Zuko.” He reached down for Zuko’s pot of ink, noticing it was nearly empty and making a note to himself to buy more at the next port. Bringing it up to the desk, he set it on the wood, “Now, I want to see what one of these turtleducks looks like.” Shrugging, Zuko lifted a fresh page from one of Hakoda’s stacks and started sketching.

Hakoda returned to his book. One of his hands lingered absently on Zuko’s elbow, a comfortable silence falling between them. Finishing his drawing, Zuko stoppered his ink and pinned up the drying sheet. He glanced down at his supplies again but thought better of it. Instead, he began a hesitant lean against Hakoda’s shoulder, his eyes drifting closed.

Hakoda felt the boy’s head sag. Still as he could, his gaze shifted to the sleeping prince. His unscarred ear pressed against Hakoda’s shoulder. He wondered if the boy might be sick to have fallen asleep so quickly, but he didn’t feel any warmer than usual. Tea and his bath, in combination with the chief’s firm presence behind him enough to settle him. 

He wondered if the boy had ever dozed off with his back against the tree he spoke of. If he ever felt safe enough while he watched the turtleducks to drift off to sleep beside his pond, instead of his sea of drawings. 

A loud rap on the door roused Hakoda from his thoughts and the fire bender. Zuko’s eyes snapped open. He tensed, his foot jostling against the desk. His strangled grunt lost in the groan of the door opening. 

Bato leaned against the doorframe with a knowing smirk, taking in Zuko’s drooping eyelids and filling in the gaps of what he’d interrupted as Hakoda eased Zuko back to the arm of the chair. He stood and squeezed one of Zuko’s shoulders as he passed, missing the boy’s wince when his hands brushed unknowingly against the burns. Stalking across the room, he stood in front of Bato to block his entry, “Interesting choice coming back unless you’re here to tell me something Zuko wouldn’t.”

“I’m not here for you,” The other man ducked under his arm. He slipped past Hakoda into the room, “Doing better, kid?” Zuko nodded, “Ready for another spin on deck?” The boy stared at Hakoda over the back of the chair for his response. 

“Not after last time, Bato.” He gestured to Zuko’s wrapped ankle. Hakoda stepped between them. There was no chance he was letting Bato cart him off again. Knowing his track record, Zuko would end up falling off the side of the ship. The prince was also emotionally frayed at the moment, he didn’t like the idea of letting Zuko out of his sights.

“You can’t keep him cooped up down here all the time, Chief.” The man stopped in front of the pictures of Sokka and Katara pinned to the wall, “Impressive, Hakoda.”

“I didn’t draw those,” Hakoda jerked his head toward Zuko on the chair. Bato stared between the drawings and the boy at the desk. Zuko shrank under their combined gazes, “You telling him, or am I, fire ferret?” Zuko sank lower against the chair back. Hakoda rolled his eyes. “Apparently I am.” He turned back to Bato, “Prickliness is apparently acquainted with my children.” Bato smirked, “What?”

“All your kids have met each other, then.” Hakoda rolled his eyes in response. He glanced down at Zuko, who was staring at his feet and red in the face. The boy didn’t protest being referred to as Hakoda’s. None of his tension or bristling. If anything, Zuko’s lips were curling slightly.

“And apparently there have been some sibling squabbles,” The chief gave a playful tug on the end of Zuko’s ponytail, chuckling when the boy swatted his hand away with a soft whine. Hakoda smoothed the hair back down, “I’m done,” he relented. Zuko toyed with the rope. He wound it between his fingers, his knuckles white from the tension in his grip.

Bato leaned down, whispering something in Zuko’s ear. Hakoda watched his amber eyes go wide before he gave a jerk of a nod. He turned to the chief and gestured to the rope.

“I’ll go with Bato.”

“Zuko, what did he say?” The boy didn’t answer. Hakoda turned his narrowed attention back to the other man. Bato’s eyes twinkled in silent humor, “What did you tell him?”

“Just a little inside joke. Hand over the rope.” Bato stuck his hand out for the coils. Hakoda rubbed his temples until a small, warm hand squeezed one of his wrists to reassure him. A  _ warm  _ hand, but not hot. His brows raised. No flames barely contained beneath the surface of his skin, “I can’t promise no injuries. The kid’s too accident-prone for that. But we’ll do our best, won’t we?” Zuko nodded, eyes flicked to Hakoda again. 

The man sighed as he reached for the knots around his waist, relenting. Bato settled the knots around his waist. Zuko stood. He allowed himself to be manhandled onto Bato’s back, clutching the man’s shoulders for balance until Bato gripped his legs to steady them. Once he was steady enough, he leaned forward to squeeze the chief’s shoulder.

“I’ll be fine, Hakoda.” They walked out the door, it banging shut behind them. Half-way down the passage, Zuko broke the silence, “Wait, he’s not really going to be gutting fish, is he...you made that up?” Bato snorted, shaking his head.

“Nope, your dad’s most likely going to be pacing around worrying. Exactly what I imagine he was doing the last time I took you up.” 

“I already have a father and an uncle too,” Zuko mumbled too low for Bato to read his tone, he tightened his hold on Bato’s shoulders.

“Nothing wrong with having more than one of each,” Bato offered, giving Zuko’s legs a gentle squeeze as he carried him the rest of the way through the passage and up the narrow stairs to the deck above.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More time with Uncle Bato, Videk, and some other crew members next time...this should be interesting.
> 
> How do you all think that's going to go?
> 
> 💚 Chronically Yours 💚


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko on deck with Uncle Bato, round two, hanging out with a few other members of the crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, snuck this in just in time to still be Christmas for me.  
> So Merry Christmas everyone!  
> I hope this finds you all safe and merry (or whatever you might be celebrating)!

Bato slid Zuko onto a crate, untying the knots between them until the slack dragged the rope across the boards of the deck. The prince frowned. His fingers twitched toward the knots, but he let them be. Instead, his eyes followed Bato as he dropped onto another stack of crates, throwing his hands behind his head with a groan as he stretched. 

“You took me away from Hakoda to sit?” Zuko picked at the bandage around his ankle.

“It’s not like you were doing anything better down in the cabin, kid.” Bato threw his head back to bask in the sun as it poked between the clouds, “Also,” He held up an open hand without looking at Zuko and dropped his fingers one by one. Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed. On the drop of the last finger, a scuffle of approaching boot falls carried to his ears. Bato pinched the bridge of his nose, “La, here he comes.”

A flash of blue and dark hair popped over the crate stack from behind Zuko, making the prince jump. He huffed, sparks drifted out of his nose, “I recommend not spooking the kid again, Videk.” Bato waggled his fingers in mock bending forms, pantomiming a rush of flames with his fingers. Zuko scowled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“Sorry, Prince,” Videk’s crooked, apologetic grin faded when he rounded the crate stack and caught sight of Zuko’s wrapped foot. His light eyes turned stony, “Thought you said I didn’t have anything to worry about?” The young crewman’s hard gaze turned to Bato, his tone accusatory “He wasn’t like that when Tarsi and I left.” Bato shrugged. He settled back against his crates again, ignoring Videk, “Prince?” Videk turned back to Zuko again.

“Kid, he’s not going to let it be if you don’t explain.” Bato crossed his arms, his tone teetered between bored and aggravated, “Talk.”

“Uh, it happened when I fell. Not the first time I fell. When I fell off the ship. I guess you saw that happen...so you knew that, but after you left I fell again. Not off the side of the ship, just over a crate. My foot got tangled in the rope. That’s it.” Videk blinked, his lips twitching. His eyes followed the trail of the rope as he nodded slowly. Dropping down right beside Zuko, he slung an arm around the prince’s shoulders. 

“Alright, I’m still keeping an eye on you, though.” He grinned with a shrug, as Zuko scowled and shoved the offending arm off his shoulder before it could irritate his burns. The prince slid away. His fingers drumming the boards of the deck beneath him, “Someone’s got to.”

“Great,” Bato groused, “you watch him. Why don’t I just hand over the rope while I’m at it?” The second ran his fingers through his hair with a snort. One of Videk’s bony elbow’s nudged into Zuko’s side, eyes twinkling. Zuko’s nose wrinkled, “Before either of you start anything, that was a joke. Hakoda wouldn’t like the idea of handoffs.” Videk sighed, his gangly legs jutting out in front of him. Another retort on his lips, but a gruff voice sounded first to cut him off.

“Speaking of handoffs, how  _ did  _ you end up tangled into brat duty, Bato?” The gruff voice’s owner, a stout man with a long beard, sidled up to their group. His tone made Zuko’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. Letting out a huff of air, Bato sat up from his reclining against the crates to face the newcomer. 

“I asked the kid instead of the chief, he’s a lot more agreeable.” 

“And he lied about fish,” Zuko muttered to himself, louder than he intended. Videk let out an unrestrained peel of laughter and Bato’s lips twitched. The man’s long beard swayed as he shifted his gaze between them and Zuko. One of his eyebrows raised, cocked at the shared humor he was missing and the prince’s tense posture against the crates. The man’s grey eyes gave a pointed flick to Zuko’s fists. Rough hands exaggerated opening, and Zuko copied the action unwittingly. He spread his fingers over his knees, relaxing them only slightly. His nails digging into the clean material of the borrowed, too-large pants cinched around his waist beneath the rope. 

The stout man nodded his approval before settling onto a crate of his own, “Is there a net to fix or something?” Zuko asked, he picked at the bandage again until Videk’s hand stretched across the gap between them to rest in a stilling motion on top of his wrist. 

“You seriously want to work, kid?” Bato asked. Zuko nodded. He flicked at Videk’s fingers for the young crewman to remove his hand. Videk’s hand retreated, rubbing the spots where the prince’s fingers collided with a rueful grin, “Videk, just because Zuko’s better behaved than you are it doesn’t mean you should be pushing your luck. You’re lucky those aren’t burns you’re nursing.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Zuko snapped and scowled. “Besides working was your idea,” He pulled his good leg up to his chest, resting his chin on top of it, “you said prisoners should be put to work. I’d rather be working than people’s entertainment.” His amber eyes made an accusing cut to the newcomer, another round of chuckles rising from the group.

“Relax kid, Podan’s not just here for his own entertainment. We do have something you can help us with,” The two older men shared gazes for a fleeting moment, “A while before you came to us we made an _ , _ ” he cleared his throat, “acquisition,” Zuko’s eyes narrowed at the strange tone. Bato nodded to the crate stack behind Videk, “You know the one.”

The younger man pushed himself to his feet, sliding crate over toward Zuko. It looked different than all the others in the piles. When the man turned it around the prince froze at the sight of a faded emblem stamped into the side of the wood grain. His fingers traced the familiar curves and points of flames. It was Fire Nation, “We want you to take a look at what’s inside and tell us about it.” Zuko bristled.

“Why should I give you information about stolen supplies that could be used against my nation?”

“Why did you provide us with a detailed route around Fire Nation waters and all the blockades?” Bato asked, grinning as Videk and Podan’s eyes widened and shifted to the prince, “Or fix the net for that matter?”

“That’s-That’s different.” His gaze flicked away, staring past the group toward the horizon. 

That information had been provided out of self-preservation. And fixing a net, while useful, wasn’t assisting in their war efforts beyond stretching their coin a little further and filling their stomachs a little more. It wasn’t a betrayal. But to give the kind of information Bato and Podan wanted away seemed like a betrayal. Like Hakoda had brought up before, it wasn’t as if Zuko had been interrogated. He had no reason to let information go. 

“I don’t think it is, but how about this... Prisoner, go through the crate,” He barked out the order, making Zuko and Videk both jump at his sudden shift in tone. The young crewman recovered first. He dropped one of his elbows on top of the crate before Zuko could think about complying.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Bato tried to interrupt, “No. He doesn’t deserve that. He shouldn’t be put in a situation like this in the first place,” Bato cleared his throat to try to interrupt again, “I don’t care who he is, he’s still a kid. If he doesn’t want to tell you-”

“Videk, he knows all that.” Podan’s gruff voice cut through the rising argument, “If the brat’s ordered to do it, then he doesn’t have to put in as much of a moral quandary about it. Correct?” His grey eyes found Zuko’s and held him in a steady gaze until he nodded slowly and reached for the crate lid. But Videk still hadn’t moved. 

“You can help?” Zuko offered, not sure what else to say. It was apparently the right thing when the young crewman nodded, his smile beginning to return. Together they pried and slid the lid off the crate. Zuko swallowed down a breath of stale air before he peered at the contents inside. An assortment of metals glared in the sun.

“Can you take them out?” He asked Videk. The man raised an eyebrow at the question, “It’s hard to see in there.”

“You have hands too, don’t you?” Videk leaned against one of the crates. He smirked at the flustered boy who gaped at him. Sitting up straighter, Zuko snapped,

“Some of them are weapons, prisoners don’t touch weapons.” Zuko crossed his arms. He scowled as the others laughed, “What’s so funny?” He raised his chin at Bato and the others. Bato had leaned over, rifling through the crate for the first item.

“Prisoners don’t make the terms of their confinement either, kid. If you’re actually a prisoner then I’m the Fire Lord.” Zuko bristled. His fingers tightened around one of the knots, his knuckles white, “Hands off the rope,” Bato shook his head. He held up the first item, a tube of metal with a thin strip of leather running around its center, “Now tell Uncle Bato what this is?” He said to distract the boy from his rising tension.

Zuko glanced up at it. He shrugged.

“It’s the base for a fire whip,” The boy explained, “a bending weapon. Useless.” He pulled his leg up to his chest again, balancing his chin on his knee. Bato’s eyes widened, flickering in hesitant wonder. An expression mirrored by Videk and Podan. Smirking, he held out the tube toward the boy, “Are you insane?” Zuko slid back until he almost toppled off the crate. Videk’s rough arms shoved him back upright, “Thanks,” He mumbled, “I’m not going to demonstrate it. I could set the entire ship on fire.”

“Come on, little prince. What if we had a bucket of water ready, just in case?” Bato wheedled. Videk jumped up and returned with a sloshing bucket before Zuko agreed. The prince’s head cocked to the side.

“Is this another test?” Snorting, Bato shook his head, “Hakoda wouldn’t like this.” Zuko mumbled into his knee. He glanced at the whip base, grimacing at it.

“Good thing Uncle Bato’s in charge right now,” Bato teased.

“Unless you just don’t know how to use it? I’m sure only the really good fire benders do.” Videk’s bony elbow nudged him with the gentle tease, but his own grin faltered when he saw Zuko’s features tense.

“I know how to use it,” Zuko snapped, “besides, you’re wrong anyway..bending weapons are for weak benders. That’s a basic skill.” He crossed his arms, trying and failing to ignore the bait they were dangling in front of him. And it had been so long since he’d been able to fire bend. 

With such a small, controlled flame what harm could it do?

“Then it should be easy for you,” Bato stuck the tube out toward the boy, who took it with lips set firm. Zuko pushed himself to his feet, he took several faltered paces away from the men. He squared his shoulders and spread his legs into a firm stance. Shutting his eyes, he took a few centering breaths to keep his inner flame controlled. Zuko opened his eyes and flicked his wrist.

A trail of flames shot forward. He bit his lip in concentration, pulling it back and letting the whip crack forward. Eyes and soul light, he gave the whip an extra twist for flare before he extinguished it. He slid his feet back together, bowed his head to center himself for a fraction of a second before he turned back to the men. Bato let out a low whistle, “Don’t see something like that every day. That was quite the demonstration, kid.” Videk and Podan were nodding, offering light applause.

Zuko flushed, he rubbed the back of his neck and held the handle out to Bato. The man took it, pocketing it with a grin. Zuko shook his head.

“I’m not doing that again. Prisoners shouldn’t have weapons,” Zuko dropped back onto the crate, “Next item?” Rolling his eyes, Bato leaned over and fished out a pair of dark metal rings. He showed them to Zuko, watching the boy’s shoulders cave. Videk patted the boy’s knee in encouragement, “Those are suppression cuffs,” Zuko muttered, eyes glazed over, “For bending.” Videk's hand tightened against his knee, and for once Zuko didn't push him away.

Bato stared at the metal cuffs in his hands with distaste. He stood, straining the rope as he marched toward the side of the ship with the intention of tossing them over the side, “Don’t.” Zuko’s voice was so firm, Bato turned back, “Keep them in case my bending ever gets out of control. Or if you ever have another prisoner.” Bato frowned but knew the kid was right. He crossed back over to the crate and fished out a slender rod.

“What about these?” Bato asked. Zuko’s eyes widened. He pulled back from Bato and the others, shaking fingers tugged the center knots free, and Zuko backed away to the full length of the rope, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Throw those overboard,” Zuko said. Bato stared at the rod in his hand, “Throw them overboard,” Zuko repeated, desperation creeping into his voice. He pulled back, the rope so taut it could snap, “Those could explode with any loose spark. I shouldn’t be anywhere near them. The whole ship could-”

Bato reached into the crate, collecting an armful of the rods and tossing them over the side without another word. He checked again to make certain they were gone, moving toward Zuko.

“Gone, all of them. Breathe,” Zuko nodded. He took a shaking breath, clapping a hand over his mouth and running to the nearest side. The prince retched over the edge, into the water below. Bato moved behind him, steadying him before he could collapse, “Uncle Bato’s got you.” The man glanced back at the circle, “Videk, go get the chief.”

“The fire whip. I could have-” Zuko couldn’t finish. He stared down into the churning waves below and retched again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to have a happy ending for your Christmas chapter, but hey...at least everyone's still on the ship and in one piece this time. That's something...right? 
> 
> Comments are very acceptable late Christmas presents around here!
> 
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda arrives in the aftermath of the fire whip incident to pick up all the pieces, and the remainder of the crew finds themselves warming up to the fire prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi people,  
> Somewhere along the way of writing two chapters got combined into one, and Super Chapter was born... I have since re-christened it Monster Chapter.   
> So here's the 3.3k+ chapter that no one asked for (well, someone kind of did...)

Hakoda entered the growing gathering of milling crew members. A dull thrum of boots and murmurs were thrown in every direction but every gaze was cast at the small frame crouched on the deck, pressed between Bato and the side of the ship. His amber eyes were glassy, unfocused, and staring straight ahead at an empty spot on the deck. The offending crate had been shoved hastily aside, buried deep in one of the stacks. But unforgotten. 

Massaging his temples, Hakoda made his slow approach through the sudden part formed in the group of men. The boy didn’t seem to register his arrival or even stir. Hakoda slid down beside him without a word. He reached down for one of Zuko’s wrists, peeling his clenched fingers from the boards of the deck beneath him. His thumb began its familiar trace against Zuko’s wrist to drag him back from the depths of his thoughts. While he didn’t know the exact details of what had transpired, from Videk’s rushed explanation, he knew it involved fire and Zuko being encouraged to use it. There wasn’t so much as a trace of ash, but it didn’t matter to the boy.

“It’s alright, Zuko. Nothing happened,” He whispered in Zuko’s ear. The boy shivered, his sluggish gaze following the trail of Hakoda’s thumb. Glancing around at the others, he guided Zuko’s head to his shoulder and wrapped an arm around him. The boy didn’t fight off his hold, even under the eyes of the crew. Who all seemed equally unbothered by the gesture. He sighed, turning to his second over the prince’s head, “Bato, you’re never watching him again. Take off the rope.”

Bato squeezed Zuko’s knee in an apology before he shrugged the loop off and handed it over without a word. Not wanting to push his luck any further than he already had. But he didn’t retreat from his position on Zuko’s other side.

Gaging the prince’s fraught state, Hakoda eased himself back just long enough to slip the rope over his own shoulders despite his growing disdain for the coil. With the rope settled in its unrightful place, he gathered Zuko closer against him. The boy’s fingers digging into the thick blue hyde of Hakoda’s parka. His knuckles white from his grip. Hakoda’s hand closed around his, he rested his chin on top of Zuko’s head, “I don’t think I’m moving anytime soon.” He rubbed Zuko’s wrist again, “La what were you thinking?” The boy stiffened, “Not you, Zuko. You aren’t responsible for this. You can’t be blamed for doing what you’ve been told to do.” 

Zuko shook his head. He could. The management of his flame and pride were no one’s responsibility but his own. One he was familiar with failing. His head drooped lower, a perceptible change to the others around him.

“How about some music? It might raise the kid’s spirits and settle everyone else while we’re at it,” Bato suggested after a long silence, “We haven’t done a music circle in a while.” Before Hakoda had even agreed, the men were already dashing below to retrieve their instruments and others had brought up baskets of bread, jerky, and fruits from the galley. Zuko watched them through half-hooded eyes. Hakoda leaned forward lifting some jerky and fruit out of the baskets. He passed Zuko a piece of jerky to gnaw on.

“Here, go slow. We don’t need you sick again,” Zuko nodded, chewing and starting to come back to himself. He polished off the first piece and reached for another, “Fruit first, then you can have more jerky.” Grumbling, Zuko snatched up a piece of fruit out of the basket. He fought with the tough peel. Hakoda snorted. He took the fruit from Zuko’s shaking hands, peeled the fruit, and handed it to him section by section. The boy sat straighter when someone strummed a guitar, “So, you do like music?” Zuko shrugged.

“Uncle, he used to do music nights on our ship,” He mumbled around a mouthful of the sticky fruit, “He was always trying to get me to play the tsungi horn,” Hakoda tried to hide a snort behind his hand, telling Zuko to chew with his mouth closed through his chortle. The prince rolled his eyes and snatched up another piece of jerky out of the basket.

“Listen to your dad, kid.” Zuko chewed, listening to the crew snicker and mutter to each other. A flush spreading through his face, he swallowed and turned so he could see Bato.

“Told you, I already have a father and an uncle.” 

“And I told you, nothing wrong with having more.” Bato shrugged. He lifted his pipes to his lips. He blew air across them to warm them up from the cold. Their rich tones sliding out into the growing hum of music. 

Hakoda clicked his tongue in warning over Zuko’s head, he handed the boy his waterskin and steadied his hands while he took a drink. While he seemed to have recovered from most of the initial shock and covered the remnants of its influences well, his hands were giving away what remained. Zuko pushed it away after a moment. He sat back, leaning against Hakoda again when the man propped his foot up slightly with an overturned basket. His amber eyes drifted around the circle. The boy glanced up at the chief, brows wrinkling at his expression.

“What?” He asked. Hakoda considered the boy in his lap for a moment.

“Zuko, do you trust me?” Hakoda asked. Zuko snorted, rolling his eyes and sitting up slightly straighter in Hakoda’s arms. 

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” His answer carried through a lull of the noise in the circle. The men's howls of laughter cut through the music. He bristled for a second, but relaxed when he realized the humor was meant to be friendly. A slight flush in his pale face, he nodded at Hakoda, “You know I do.” The chief’s eyes glowed. He held Zuko closer. 

“Good,” his nose wrinkled slightly, “because I’m about to do something you won’t like very much. Try not to burn me,” He said. 

Zuko frowned, his brows furrowed in confusion. Hakoda pressed his hands against Zuko’s ears, muffling the noise of the circle. The boy stiffened. He struggled against the chief’s hold, his fingers heating before he could stop them. The feeling of a hand against the rippled edge of his scar skirting too close to dangerous memories. Snatching up Hakoda’s waterskin, Zuko channeled the heat into it. He gritted his teeth, all his focus and energy pouring into the skin without destroying the skin. After what seemed like ages, Zuko let the steaming skin fall back to the deck and slumped against the chief. Zuko felt Hakoda holding him closer, the man’s chest rumbled behind him as he spoke.

“This is stupid,” Zuko muttered, crossing his arms. Fingers brushed his freshly shaved hairline to soothe him. Videk crossed the loosely formed circle and dropped a blanket over his knees. He nodded thanks but refused to allow himself to be lulled by the combined warmth of the blanket and Hakoda behind him. His eyes focused on Hakoda’s lips to try to make out the shape of the words, huffing as the man shook his head and guided Zuko’s face back toward the circle with the gentle prodding of his hands. 

“You know his scar wasn’t a bending accident,” Hakoda said. He kept his voice as low as he could, “The father that he’s so insistent he has, did that to him to teach him some kind of lesson.” Bato let out a low whistle. He tightened his hold on his pipes, glancing away, “Banished him, then tasked him with finding the avatar if he wanted to return home again. With, I’m sure, no intention he’d ever succeed.”

“Kid’s been at it for three years now. Can you imagine-”

“No, and I don’t want to,” Hakoda fingers tensed before he could stop them, hard enough for the boy to let out a grunt. Zuko fought his hold, refusing to be settled again until the hold relented and the man released his ears, “I’m sorry. Almost finished.”

“Why are you doing this at all?” Zuko scowled.

“Because the adults are talking right now, and you don’t need to hear it. It’s not as if I can send you to your room, can I?” He tugged gently on the knot closest to Zuko’s core to illustrate his point. But the boy bristled when his hands came close to his ears again. He pulled away, “Zuko…” 

“Chief, the rest of us can keep an eye on him.” Podan piped up. A rumble of agreement echoed through the circle. Hakoda paused, lips pressed together, “You’ll still be able to see him and we’ll play a song or something to keep him entertained. It’s not like the brat can get far on that foot anyway.” Zuko raised his chin at Podan, daring the man to make that statement again. He was more than capable of running away, any suggestion otherwise was insulting, “Maybe he’ll teach us one we don’t know?” Zuko’s nose wrinkled. He glanced back to Hakoda who was still appraising him.

“Will you be alright?” Zuko nodded stiffly. Hakoda ruffled his ponytail, “I’ll be back in a few minutes, then.” The man stood. He unwound the rope around his waist, turning his attention back to the other end of the loop around Zuko, “Will you let me take that off you?” Frowning, Zuko clenched his fingers around one of the knots. Hakoda sighed. “Apparently not.”

The chief let his end of the rope fall to the deck with a thud, leaving Zuko untethered in the circle. He squeezed Zuko’s shoulder as he walked past, with Bato following behind him. He glanced back to see the crew already trying to coax Zuko into teaching them a Fire Nation song. Videk had taken one of their abandoned spots at Zuko’s side.

“I don’t sing,” Zuko groused. He worked the rope through his hands, tying knots on the other end and untying them again, “Thought you were supposed to entertain me, not the other way around,” He mumbled, glancing in the direction of the chief. Podan shrugged, plucking at one of the strings of his guitar. 

Tarsi, having wandered into the circle, pressed against Podan’s side and leaned on the older man’s shoulder. His posture impeded the older man’s efforts with the guitar strings. Scoffing, the older man shoved him off. But Tarsi didn’t seem offended. He merely stood and wandered over to Videk's other side instead. Zuko followed his progress around the circle, eyes narrowing.

“What’s got your face screwed up like that, Prisoner?” Podan asked softly. Zuko stiffened at the direct question, fingers tracing his scar, “No, I don’t mean the mark.” He chuckled. The older man rested his guitar across his lap, “ I meant that face you’re making.” Zuko shrugged, his eyes flicking to Tarsi again.

“Does everyone do that? He asked. The man shrugged, nodding his head as he stroked his beard.

“Suppose fire benders don’t often need to seek out body heat from anyone else, but for the rest of us, we take it where we can get it. Why?”

“I thought it was just Hakoda treating me like a kid.” Podan shook his head, fiddling one of the strings on his guitar.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re definitely special. But touch is fairly standard around the Water Tribe. Besides we’re all far from home, touch keeps people close,” He lifted his guitar again and began to strum, the others joining into a familiar tune. Zuko closed his eyes, his fingers twisting tighter through the fibers. A hand tapped on his, making his eyes snap open. Videk offered him a tentative, crooked grin.

“Speaking of, I don’t think you’re supposed to be touching that.”

“I didn’t know you cared so much about rules,” Zuko retorted, “or do you just need to know them so you can break them?” He found himself smiling, as Videk’s mouth fell open stunned into temporary silence. The young crewman recovered, shook his head as he grinned, and jokingly snatched at the rope end in Zuko’s hands.

“Just wait until you’re off this thing, and you can find out for yourself.” Zuko’s fingers tightened around the rope end, his smile falling. Videk caught his expression, looping his arm around Zuko’s shoulders in a gentle hold, “Don’t worry about it too much, Prince.” Zuko thought about Podan’s words and didn’t shake off his hold. 

Hakoda watched him from the far side of the deck, with Bato at his side.

“I’m not sending him back to the Fire Nation, or releasing him if there’s a chance he’s just going to run back there on his own. There’s nothing good for him there.”

“So, what are you going to do, keep him leashed? Adopt him?” Hakoda didn’t answer. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered the possibility of adopting Zuko. He had. But it seemed foolish to bring it up, especially when the boy was so insistent that he had a family, “Look, I like the kid. I wouldn’t mind keeping him around. If you don’t adopt him, I think Videk would try. La help us all. But just remember that slapping some war paint over his scar won’t change who he is or what happened to him, Hakoda. Some things run deeper.”

They turned back toward the circle. Zuko had let the rope slide from his hands. He snapped his fingers on the beat of the song, little absent sparks drifting off the pads of his fingers to the general interest of the crew. One of the sparks strayed too far from the boy’s hands. It landed in Podan’s beard, setting the greying hair alight. The man’s eyes widened. He clapped his hands over the wiry hair until only smolders remained. Everyone fell silent. All gazes settled on Zuko. The prince froze.

Hakoda rubbed his temples, preparing to intervene until Bato’s hand pressed against his chest, “Wait,” The chief frowned. He shook his head and tried to brush past his second, but the other man pushed him back again, “before you barge in to rescue him, let’s see how they handle it. If you really intend to keep a firebender around long-term, this kind of thing is bound to happen more than once. You won’t always be there to smother him or every fire he starts,” Hakoda let out a resigned sigh. He nodded and turned back to watch the scene unfold.

Videk broke the silence first with a poorly restrained chuckle. He nudged Zuko in the ribs with one of his bony elbows, eyes shining through the growing darkness. Other laughs joined the mix, first nervous but a few breaking into deep throaty laughs that snapped Zuko from his trance. The boy stared around the circle, his amber eyes wide.

“Guess you finally have to shave your beard,” Videk choked out between more laughter, “you’ve only been putting it off for months.” Podan patted the beard again to extinguish the last of the smoking smolders. He rolled his eyes, glancing over to the young firebender who quaked on the deck. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Podan began, stroking the remains of his beard, “I might have to keep it as a battle scar. Not everyone can say they’ve survived being set on fire by the fire prince himself.” He let out a throaty chuckle of his own, and the circle dissolved in full-fledged laughter again. 

Zuko’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Heat spread through his face. He scrambled to his feet, gathering the loose end of the rope into his arms and marching off the best he could on his wrapped foot. The crew watched him go, their laughter faded and sobered as the prince stormed away. No one followed him, but they all watched his staggered progress across the deck toward the front of the ship. 

He threw the rope back to the deck, leaned on the railing on the side, and glowered down at the waves.

Podan stood to follow after him, but Hakoda rejoined the circle and shook his head.

“Let him be for a few minutes, he needs to decompress and we can all see him from here.” A low rumble of agreement carried through the circle. Some of the men picked up their instruments again, beginning a soft shanty, “Alright Podan?” Hakoda asked, his pointed gaze resting on the man’s singed beard. The stout man nodded.

“Suppose it was about time for a trim anyway. To be honest, I think it scared the brat more than me.” Hakoda glanced toward Zuko’s small frame at the bow. He was sure it had. The boy was still shaken from his first incident with fire of the day. It was any wonder his only outburst was storming off. The prince wasn’t running or hiding for once, merely putting distance between himself and everyone else, “How long are you going to let him stew?”

“Not much longer,” Hakoda said. He rubbed his temples, “I’m trying not to smother him, as I’ve been told I do, but I know he’s going to be angry with himself.” Podan laughed, clapping Hakoda on the back. 

“Seems like that kid could use some smothering, if you ask me, Chief.” Podan shoved him over toward the bow, turning back to the crew to stir up a louder song among them. The wall of music and growing shadows created some semblance of privacy as he approached Zuko. Still leaning against the side, the boy stared down at the waves. His lips moved.

Hakoda paused. He strained his ears, picking up a soft, faltering tune.

_ “Leaves from the vine, falling so slow.  _

_ Like fragile, tiny shells drifting in the foam.  _

_ Little soldier boy, come marching home.  _

_ Brave soldier boy, comes marching home.” _

Hakoda waited until Zuko finished to close the distance between them. He leaned against the side of the ship beside him, sliding down to the deck. Lifting the loose end of the rope, he untwisted one of the knots Zuko had made before and began dressing the knots on his end of the loop.

“I thought you couldn’t sing?” He offered in a gentle tone. Zuko bristled for a fraction of a second, but followed suit and sat across from the chief. 

“I said I don’t. Not I can’t. I’m not a performing fire ferret on a leash. So, I won’t sing for them. Not that song either, my uncle would sing it,” Hakoda nodded slowly, keeping any comments about the leash being one Zuko was keeping himself on private. The boy leaned against the side of the ship. He stared up at the stars, “Podan’s fine, right?” 

“He is,” Hakoda opened his arms for Zuko, who slid over after a few moments of hesitation to lean against him, “are you, fire ferret?”

“I didn’t mean to lose control.”

“I know. They do too. How’s your ankle after all that walking?” Zuko shrugged and shivered, “Let’s get you below,” He muttered. Zuko shook his head, “Your foot needs to be up and you’re colder than usual.” He wasn’t regulating well, Zuko scowled.

“I’m going to burn something if we go below deck,” The prince stated, “Again.” Hakoda stroked the back of his hand, knowing Zuko’s words weren’t meant to be a threat. 

“I don’t think you would, but let's at least go back to the circle where it’s warmer.” Hakoda stood, helped Zuko to his feet, and offered him an arm to take the weight off on the way back to the others. The rope dragged on the deck behind them until they settled back into the circle. With some reluctance, the boy leaned against his chest and glanced around through half-hooded eyes. The blanket settled over him again. His foot propped once more.

He twisted the loose end of the rope through his fingers into a sloppy stopper knot, listening to the music. A roughened hand tapped one of his and startled Zuko. The prince stiffened. He stared over at Podan, the blackened places in his beard highlighted in the shadows. The stout man reached for the rope. Zuko passed it over.

“What kind of shoddy knot is that, brat? If you insist on doing work, it should be right,” Podan untangled it, showing Zuko the steps to a different knot before passing the end back, “Try that one,” He said. Zuko nodded. He turned his attention to the rope end and tried to copy what he saw Podan do. The man guided his hands, scolding and praising him softly as he produced a sound knot. “We’ll make a sailor of you yet, Prisoner.” Hakoda grimaced at the name but softened at the sight of Zuko’s half-smile in return.

The music carried on into the night, and Zuko drifted off lulled by music and Hakoda’s arms to ground him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think some comments would be a fair trade, or they'd at least make me really happy. A happy cryptid is more likely to post updates...just sayin'  
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip into port for Hakoda stretches the limits of acceptable "babysitters" for Zuko.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the last update of the year, everybody!  
> So, Happy New Year and enjoy your slightly more reasonably sized update.

Zuko woke with the sudden lurching halt of the ship’s constant motion. His eyelids glowed with the harsh glare of light beyond them. Preparing himself, he forced his eyes open and waited through the painstaking moments of blindness for it to clear. He pushed himself up on his forearms, taking notice for the first time the absence of furs beneath him. Only deck boards. The single blanket and assortment of blue parkas piled on top of him slipped off, a shock of brisk air invading their warmth.

Zuko stared at the parkas, beyond their presence, the circle of the night before was reduced to abandoned fruit peels curling in the morning sun, scattered crumbs, haphazardly stacked baskets awaiting their return to the galley, and a single snapped guitar string. He glanced around and realized the other absence. The prince was alone. Biting his lip, he followed the trail of the rope but it was still tangled in the knot Podan taught him. He was untethered, and unsteady despite the lack of motion beneath him. 

He stood, leaned against the side of the ship, and realized why they’d stopped. They were docked in a small, rundown looking port. Zuko didn’t recognize it from his travels, but he knew it was Earth Kingdom. Rich greens and browns. Mason stones. Dirt. Distant bustling and clangs carried to his ears until a closer clatter of footsteps on the deck dragged his attention back to the ship. 

Gathering the end of the rope, Zuko wrapped it around one of his shoulders and made his limping progress toward the noise. He found a small gathering at the helm, Hakoda and Bato bent over a ledger in an animated debate over the rationing of the remaining flour stores. Podan rolled his eyes from his spot against the helm, catching sight of Zuko’s approach. He raised an idle hand in a silent greeting. Zuko nodded in reply. 

The prince padded his way to the others, untangling the knot on the other end as he closed the distance and forming the end of the rope into a small loop. Pausing for a moment, Zuko caught Hakoda’s outstretched wrist.

“Don’t look now, Chief,” Podan’s lips twitched enough to shake the remnants of his beard, “but I think you’re being taken prisoner.” Both Hakoda and Zuko rolled their eyes at Podan, before Hakoda turned his rather bemused attention to his wrist and the rope in Zuko’s other hand.

“Morning, prickliness.” 

“You left me alone, and unrestrained.” Zuko scowled, crossing his arms, “You’re not supposed to leave a prisoner like that.” The chief gave him a slow, almost sad smile, tugging Zuko into a playful hold with the boy’s back against his chest. He clasped his hands together in front of the prince, though he made sure to keep his hold gentle enough for Zuko to escape it if he wanted.

“How’s this for restrained?” He asked.

“I’m serious.” Zuko’s fingers were warm against his hands as the boy made a half-hearted attempt to pry his hands apart, so he could slide the loop of rope over the man’s wrist, “You can’t just do that.”

Hakoda nodded. He was sure Zuko was. While it wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for when he left the boy sleeping on the deck, it was what he expected. Having known his reaction didn’t make it any simpler to face. With a soft sigh, he released his hold before the boy could separate his hands and turned Zuko to face him. 

“Sorry, prickliness. If you’re going to insist on being restrained, we’re going to have to find you someone else to be restrained to for the moment.”

“Why?”

“Because I have business off ship and you’re better off here.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed. His gaze flicked to Bato, “No, even if Bato’s rope privileges weren’t revoked until further notice,” He shot a look at his second, who offered a sheepish grin before diving too intently back into the ledger, “he’s going to be with me.” 

All eyes settled on Podan. The bearded man noticed the pointed stares.

“No.” He held up a single, roughened hands against their protests, “I’ll be warden, but find yourself a different guard to tie to him.” Seeing Zuko’s gaze falter at his refusal, the man’s gruff voice softened a slight amount, “Don’t look so wounded, prisoner, I’m going to be filling the lamps. That seems flammable for your tastes, does it not?” Zuko’s eyes widened. His head jerked in a quick nod. 

Zuko’s stomach was clenching in tighter than his white knuckles around the end of the rope, his tension rising. The weathered skin around Podan’s eyes crinkled in his own private humor, “There is someone, now that I think of it-”

“No.” Hakoda and Bato spoke in unison as they followed his line of thinking. The prince’s brows furrowed, trying to figure out what it was Podan was suggesting, “How would he be any better than Bato?” Hakoda was rubbing his temples.

“Because I imagine part of Videk looks at the prince and sees Renaq, he won’t let anything happen to him. Not if he can help it,” Podan answered. The prince glanced between the sober expressions surrounding him. No one’s eyes were on Zuko, the intentional avoidance almost painful, until he wished for once they would look at him. But he didn’t break the silence to ask the question that burned on his tongue. 

Hakoda mulled it over. He ran an absent hand through the end of Zuko’s ponytail to brush out tangles from his sleep, “Besides, I’ll still be around to keep them out of too much trouble. The ship isn't that big."

“Does that satisfy your hostage situation here, prickliness?” The prince nodded, brushing Hakoda’s hand away from his hair before he crossed his arms again. Videk was summoned. He arrived with a crooked grin that broke the tension, with Tarsi in tow. Sticking out his wrist, Videk’s eyes danced when Zuko slid on the loop and tightened it down while the others watched, “I don’t need to remind you to take this seriously, do I?” Hakoda asked, tone low and stern. 

The young crewman shook his head, “Both of you?” Two headshakes from Videk and Tarsi, “If anything I’m hoping Zuko might be a good influence on you both.” Grins broke out in the small gathering at the helm, the irony lost on no one, even the prince avoiding their gazes, “Don’t disappoint me.” Noticing Zuko stiffen at those words, Hakoda shook his head, “That’s not directed at you. Try not to let them talk you into anything you don’t think you should be doing, but being a prisoner means you’re not in control. You won’t be held responsible or punished. Understand?” Zuko frowned, staring back at him.

“I understand,” Hakoda nodded but Zuko continued, “that none of you know the first thing about having a prisoner,” Zuko’s sullen grouse had everyone’s lips twitching, “But the arrangement is sufficient.” Hakoda rolled his eyes at the emergence of the royal language, a sure sign everything was far from sufficient, and held out a hand for Zuko to shake. He squeezed the boy’s fingers longer than needed before he let go, brushing a single circle into the boy's hand with his thumb. 

Hakoda forced himself not to glance over his shoulder as he and Bato left, knowing Zuko’s wide amber eyes would make him want to turn back. But with supplies to negotiate for and ground to cover, he tried to convince himself the young fire bender was far better off on the ship than stumbling after him on his recovering ankle.

Zuko crossed his arms, his lips pressing into a firm line. He turned back to the others when the boards groaned beneath Podan’s boots, “Where are you going?” He asked.

“Not that I’m obligated to explain myself, Prisoner, but I’m going below to fill the lamps.”

“But you’re supposed to be supervising,” Zuko’s pitch crept upward. Podan rose one of his unkempt eyebrows, undeterred in his progress toward below. 

“If you’re so familiar with prisons, you should know the warden only has to get involved when things go wrong. Don’t make things go wrong, so I don’t have to get involved.” He siddled off before Zuko could argue any further. Zuko scowled. He knew how prisons worked better than any of them. His father designed one after all. 

Videk and Tarsi shared glances, the latter shaking his head with insistence, but Videk won out in their silent debate. He slung an arm around Zuko’s shoulders.

“So, Prince, how do you and your prisoner rules feel about a field trip?” Zuko paled. Air and his lungs fighting each other, “Hey, don’t do that, alright?” Videk held his hands out in front of him in mock surrender, but dropped them when he saw the sudden movement seemed to make things worse, “We’ll find something to do around here. It’s not that important”

“But I’m the only reason you’re not going, right?” More shared glances, Videk rubbed the back of his neck with his tied arm and nearly knocked Zuko off his feet by the motion as Zuko tried to orient himself to the new weight on the other end of the rope. Tarsi nodded, however, earning himself a swift jab in the ribs from the other crewman’s bony elbow. The larger man lumbered backward and doubled over. He gave Zuko a semi-watery thumbs up when he saw the prince’s concerned look, “Does he-do you ever talk?” 

“Not often,” Videk snorted, “stay around him long enough and you might catch a word or two.” Tarsi shrugged, running a hand through his heavily beaded hair. The clacking of the beads the loudest sounds between the group.

“Oh.” Having the feeling another question he shouldn’t ask was weighing down the air, Zuko tugged at his borrowed shirt collar, “Well, you should still be able to go…” It wasn’t right they were stuck with him. People were always getting stuck with him, “You could,” he began but faltered, “nevermind it’s stupid.” Videk’s eyes crinkled around the edges, shaking his head.

“Let us be the judge of that, hmm?” Zuko swallowed and explained. The crewmen's eyes widened, expressions breaking out into wicked grins. 

* * *

Zuko leaned his head against the mast, shifting against the over-tightened coils of the rope to find a more comfortable position. Despite the brisk temperature, the sun beat down on his pale skin. Beads of sweat gathered along the back of his arched neck. His fingers tightened around the familiar hilt of his dagger, glad for the security it brought him on the suddenly too silent ship. 

Despite his initial reluctance to accept the dagger back after Videk had unearthed it from Bato's chest, it had been the only condition where Videk would agree to leave him behind. It didn’t matter that Podan was minutes away or that Zuko could free himself by other methods if he tried, neither young crewman wanted him defenseless. He shook his head, half-grinning to himself at the thought of it before he twisted again, wincing against the rope. Knocking his head back into the mast, he let out a huff of air. 

A tinge of smoke trailing away from him as it drifted on the breeze. He followed its path to settle his uneasiness but stiffened at the sight of a different movement in the corner of his eye. Bristling, Zuko strained to get a better look at the intruder. His fingers tightening around the handle, muscles winding for a strike. But it clattered to the deck boards, at the sight of the figure standing on the deck.

The small, pale figure startled at the noise, ducking behind a stack of crates after a grappled search. Zuko’s gaze narrowed on the waif’s hiding place, an odd one, as her head was still visible above the crates. He shook his head.

“I can see you.” He snapped, trying to scare her off. The dark-haired waif crossed her arms, a smirk breaking across her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She propped her elbows on the crate stack in front of her with a resounding smack, hard enough to make Zuko wince and wonder if Podan could hear it from below. The waif shook her head, with a taunting reply.

“You can’t see me, I don’t see you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I love comments on the actual content because it's New Years' and all (and since it's been a while...) Please enjoy this bonus scene as a little gift.  
> Bonus scene:  
>  _(In the War Room aka Zuko’s Classroom for Inept Water Tribe Captors):  
>  Zuko: I’m going to say a word and I want everyone to say the first word that comes to mind: Prisoner.  
> Videk: Friend  
> Tarsi: …  
> Podan: Prisoner  
> Bato: Nephew  
> Hakoda: Son  
> Zuko: What?  
> The group [collectively sighs]: Nevermind…  
> Zuko: Everyone fails except Podan  
> Podan: Hey prisoner, hold this for me, would you?  
> Zuko: Sure? (Looks down and sees the fire whip in his hand) Podan, you fail too.  
> Podan: How about now? 🥓  
> Zuko: ...  
> The group: 🥓🥓🥓🥓🥓  
> Zuko: … A’ckept-ble ___
> 
> __  
> 
> 
> _In less fun news, I'll be back to school on Monday... So, my posting may slow down. But I'll be writing and updating as much as I can for you all!_  
>  💚Chronically Yours💚  
> 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and the waif, and the results of improper supervision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first update of the new year!  
> It's been a while since I made you all wait so long, but I hope it was worth the wait.  
> Welcome to Zuko alone, or the closest thing we're going to get...

Zuko scowled at the girl, sitting straight as he could against the mast even as the coils of rope dug into his sides and arms. He twisted his arm to try and scrabble for the knife handle, fingers grazing the edge but not quite managing to wrap around it. With another huff of air, he turned his attention back to the girl.

“Of course I can see you,” he snapped, “you’re right there. Get lost,” He hissed through his gritted teeth. Defenseless against a little girl who would barely come up to his shoulders, his inner flame and pride curling and wilting like a panda lily. Zuko knew he should call for Podan, but something in him refused to believe he couldn’t defend himself and the ship against the snipe with both hands tied behind his back. 

“Think I already took care of that one,” the girl’s confidence faltered for a fraction of a second with a gentle rock of the ship before she set her jaw again. She cracked her knuckles, drumming her fingers against one of the crates in a trace of its uneven seams, “but if you want me to go away why don’t you come over here and make me?” Zuko’s brows furrowed, glancing down at the coils of rope around him. 

“I can’t.” The girl cocked her head to the side, her dirt-smudged features crinkled in confusion. With a small hand gripping one of the crates, she made an uncoordinated circle to the front of the stack and moved closer to Zuko. Out in the open, Zuko could see the waif’s feet were bare and filthy. Her toes slid across the deck boards as if the wood was ice and waif was expecting it to crack beneath her weight at any moment.

“Why can’t you?” Zuko stared pointedly at the rope, “I’m assuming you’re showing me something, but that’s not going to work.” She waved a hand in front of her face with a shrug, “You’re going to have to help me out here.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed, then widened on the girl’s dull eyes. He realized while the girl was facing in his general direction, she wasn’t  _ looking  _ at him at all.

“Oh,” He said. The girl snorted, crossing her arms and inching closer to him again. She was right in front of him and crouched on the deck boards. He arched his shoulders against the mast and rope bonds to pull back from the girl, as she leaned even closer, poking his chest.

“So, why did I have to come to you?” Her finger brushed the uppermost ring of rope, features scrunching, “What is this?” Her hands traveled over the rope fibers, “Rope,” She said before Zuko could answer, “You’re tied up. Are you a prisoner? Is this a pirate ship or something? That’s awesome, I’m definitely staying here.” Zuko bristled, letting out a huff of smoke-tinged air. But the girl didn’t seem to mind the bitter smell or heat radiating from him.

“It’s not a pirate ship,” he snapped, “it’s a Water Tribe warship, and you can’t stay here.”

“So, you’re a prisoner?” Zuko nodded. He stared at the girl and waited for her to say something else. She snorted, “Did you nod or shake your head?” Zuko winced. The girl dropped to the deck beside him, so close their shoulders touched, “Relax sparky,” she said as he bristled, “if you’re going to be doing that, I need to be able to feel it.” But Zuko couldn’t relax, “Your heart’s pounding like crazy, what did I do?” The girl asked. Between the ropes and her closeness on his worse side, he was too vulnerable. The prince couldn’t take it.

“If you’re not going to leave, can you just sit on the other side?” He asked, a flush creeping through the back of his neck. The girl shifted to Zuko’s unscarred side without a word, listening to his heart start to return to its normal rate, “Thanks,” He muttered. She shrugged against his shoulder, leaning against him and the mast, “Yes, I’m a prisoner.” The girl reached for the knots rope, “What are you doing?”

“Untying you, obviously, and I thought I was the blind one,” She said.

“Well, don’t.”

“What kind of prisoner doesn’t want to escape?” The girl cocked her head to the side but released the knots.

“It’s complicated.” With the waif on his good side, Zuko could make out that beneath the layer of dirt, her clothes were of a higher quality than he would have assumed. And despite her paleness and filth, her cheeks were marked with the fullness of someone who’d never missed a meal. Her hair too, though mussed enough to remind him of Azula’s right after training, was well maintained and styled by someone, “What kind of noble girl plays runaway beggar?” The girl’s nose wrinkled.

“It’s complicated,” she parroted with a smirk, “but if you have to know, I was sick of being my parents' helpless, little blind girl. They never let me do anything. It sucked. So, I ran away.”

Zuko thought of his mother and uncle, but new images were flooding his mind between the figures in red who existed in varying degrees of clarity and worming their ways into the cracks with blue parkas, deep eyes, a crooked grin, and a burnt beard. His stomach churned against the over-tightened rope, but he managed to find his halted words.

“It sounds like they wanted to keep you safe, that doesn’t sound so bad to me.” The girl scowled, picking at the dirt between her toes.

“Well, it was,” she muttered, “and I’m not looking for advice from someone who’s willing to stay a prisoner. That’s crazy.” Zuko shrugged. He didn’t need to explain himself to some spoiled little girl, “Even with earth bending, I was only allowed to breathe. I never get to use it,” She brushed a hand absently down her arm, raising a fine mist of dust into the air between them as if to illustrate she could. Zuko stared at the dust cloud with longing for the easy and unbridled bending she used. Even if he wasn’t a prisoner, a wooden ship couldn’t offer that luxury to him. If fire ever could. That he supposed, the pain of being denied bending, he could understand.

“That’s rough...So, what’s your plan? Just be on the run?”

“So what if it is?” The girl’s face flickered into something less confident again, this time not timed with the rocking of the ship. But it was easier enough to pretend not to notice when the girl piped up a moment later, “Your plan to be a willing  _ prisoner _ isn’t any better.”

“Why does everyone say it like that?” He muttered and knocked his head back against the mast again with a dull thud. Her head cocked to the side, expectant for his explanation. Zuko grimaced but stumbled through his time on the Water Tribe ship for the girl. The passive dust cloud fluttering around her, and consequently Zuko, pulsed and spiked when he explained how it was he got there in the first place. 

When the dust cloud settled again and Zuko stopped coughing, the girl spoke.

“It sounds like they take good care of you,” Zuko shrugged, making sure the girl felt the movement, “I think they say it like that because you’re not a prisoner to them. Maybe you were, but you’re not now.” Zuko stiffened, “Hold it, sparky, I’m sure you think it’s complicated because it seems like a kind of betrayal if you’re not a prisoner,” she brushed her palms together to banished a layer of dirt off her hands, and reached up to find his scar, “but I think you were betrayed first.” He bristled under her touch, but he couldn’t escape the brush of her fingertips.

“That’s not-” Zuko started, “They don’t-” He fell silent again, “I am a-” The prince couldn’t finish. He let out a huff of air tinged with sparks, growling as he had to try to suck them back down before they could land on the deck or the girl and set something alight when there was no one around who could see them to stop it.

“Just something to think about, sparky,” the girl shrugged. The ship rocked again on a slight wave, and she gripped his shoulder to orient herself, “Well, no offense, but I’m definitely not staying here. There’s not enough dirt for me to see much of anything and there’s no way I’d let anyone put me on some rope. I’d go back home first.”

“I didn’t let him,” Zuko protested. But he knew it didn’t make a difference. Regardless of how he came to be on the rope, refusing to let someone free him was almost the same, “But if you go home, find some way to bend.” He hooked the knife handle with the back of his ankle, nudging it toward her, “Here.” Her eyes narrowed as her fingers traced the sheaf and slid out the blade, “It’s inscribed.”

“I can’t read, you dunderhead.” She punched his shoulder through the coil, harder than he would have expected for her size.

“Oh, well that side says made in Earth Kingdom.” The girl rolled her eyes, “But if you turn it over,” she turned it over and traced the characters pressed into the blade, “it says never give up without a fight. I guess we have some different things that matter to us, but hang onto this to remind you to keep fighting for yours.”

She punched his shoulder again, “Agni, why do you keep doing that?” It suddenly seemed foolish to think this girl needed a reminder to fight. 

“It’s how I show affection. Never give up without a fight, huh? I like it.” The gleam across her face made Zuko shiver, “Sure you don’t want me to cut you loose?” Her head cocked back toward him, sheafing the knife.

“No, I have an agreement with them, I couldn’t just leave even if I wanted to.” The girl smirked, “I haven’t given up either if that’s what you’re thinking.” He scowled. Standing the girl brushed herself off, dirt clouded the air between them. Zuko’s eyes watered. He coughed, his ribs pulsing in his chest against the ropes as they fought the heavy air.

“I know you haven’t,” The girl leaned forward and flicked his temple, “you’re fighting with yourself. That’s one fight I think you can give up if you want. Next time I see you, I hope you’re not still tied up.” She started to turn and leave, but paused, “You’re not going to get in trouble if this goes missing are you?” She waved the sheathed knife.

“You won’t  _ see  _ me anyway,” Zuko muttered under his breath. The girl caught the aside comment and grinned, “And no if they ask I’ll just say a blind bandit took it from me while they were gone.” She cackled as she brandished the dagger, and started to make her clumsy progression back toward the gangplank.

He rested the back of his head against the mast again to watch the girl disappear with his dagger, better it be out in the world and being used by someone than locked away in a trunk anyway he supposed. Used the way Uncle meant it to be used. He wondered if the girl was right about any of it, about all of it. If it were true, how did a blind girl see more than him?

* * *

Footsteps, resoundingly loud in the almost empty ship stirred him from his thoughts as Podan climbed back onto the deck. His eyes narrowing on Zuko, taking him in and withering him at once, beneath his bushy brows. He rested his rough hands on his worn belt and waited for the prince against the mast to speak. 

No words came. 

“I thought it was too quiet up here. Let me guess, those two went to go find snacks?” Zuko gave a noncommittal shrug in response to the accurate appraisal, but Podan didn’t seem surprised or particularly angry with what he found, “And which idiot do we have to thank for the idea to truss you up against the mast, prisoner?” He asked. Zuko looked away, slinking down as far as the rope would allow without it becoming painful. 

“Me.” Podan snorted and shook his head.

“Good, then I won’t have any guilt on my chest when I leave you here for a little while longer to finish the last of the lamps.” He barked a laugh at Zuko’s surprised scowl but turned on his heel and to his word started back below. 

* * *

The sun was slipping beneath the horizon by the time Hakoda walked back onto the ship with Bato beside him, bracing himself for what he’d find. A pink light bathed the deck boards in a soft glow. It made the scene he walked into somehow more surreal. 

Amid a sea of empty food wrappings, his charge dosed against the mast. The rope bundled was in a loose coil around him. His head slumped over in an awkward position, half-balanced on Tarsi’s shoulder. The larger shifted some as Hakoda approached, but held Zuko’s head in place with one of his hands so the prince wouldn’t stir until he settled into the new position. With his shrewd consideration evident, it was Tarsi who spoke first.

“Warm.” 

His answer to Hakoda's questioning looks, as if that should be explanation enough for their positions. Hakoda rubbed his temples, turning to Videk who was uncharacteristically at work, mopping a strange patch of dirt off the deck. 

“Any trouble?” He kept his tone hushed, with no desire to rouse his sleeping charge and disturb the relative peace.

“Define trouble, Chief?” The young man leaned against the mop with a crooked, sheepish grin. Hakoda glanced pointedly at the trash around their feet. Trash that most certainly came from somewhere other than their ship. Zuko seemed no worse for whatever happened while he was away, but with the prince, things weren’t always so simple. There were still things Hakoda wanted to know about his time with Bato.

“If you have to ask, it’s probably trouble. Any injuries, upsets, odd events? And why is he tied to the mast?” Videk gave a noncommittal shrug, leaning hard enough against the broom handle he nearly crashed into a stack of crates that Hakoda swore were in a different place when he and Bato left the ship that morning. But he managed to catch himself and stumble through his explanation.

“Needed both hands to mop, it was his idea anyway.” Bato snorted behind them.

Tarsi cleared his throat, his sharp eyes angling back to Zuko. All of them followed the gaze as Videk continued, “Well now that you mention odd events, we did have a stowaway. But Prince has it handled,” Videk returned to mopping with new vigor. He glared at Tarsi behind Hakoda’s back as the chief’s eyes settled on a small bundle tucked between Zuko’s rope-covered chest and his bent knees. A fuzzy bundle with a shell, no bigger than Hakoda’s palm that burrowed deeper into Zuko’s chest against the beginnings of a brisk night breeze. 

“Is that...is that a turtleduck?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I clearly have little respect for the canon timeline, I wanted to try and explain what’s happening and put some events in the context of canon.   
> Chapter one was roughly a week after the events of the siege of the North Pole, which is the end of Book One in the series.   
> I’m not keeping a perfect record of time, but we’ll say Zuko’s been on the ship for about a month give or take at this point in the story.   
> Meanwhile, the gang hasn’t met Toph yet (I think the gang is in a secret tunnel about now) and she has yet to discover the wondrous place known as Earth Rumble. So, while it might be disappointing that we didn’t have another adoption for Hakoda to contend with, she’s on her way back to Gaoling to meet them. She just doesn’t know it yet and neither do they.   
> Clear as mud? Good.  
> Since Toph never got her life-changing adventure with Zuko after he joined the gang, I decided to give them a little adventure together before either of them join the gang.   
> Let me know what you think!  
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Provided by the ship's new stowaway: Quack quack, quack quack quack. Quack quack quack quack quack-quack-quack. Quack. Quack quack Quack quack quack quack Quack quack quack quack. _Quack _quack, quack quack quack Quack quack.__
> 
> __In brief translation for those who don't speak turtleduck: Zuko and turtleduck fluff, in combination with Hakoda's inability to tell appropriate bedtime stories._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, citizens of the four nations,   
> I hope this update finds you well. This was supposed to be a completely fluffy chapter about Zuko and his new turtleduck friend...my hand slipped?

A little squawk roused Zuko from his stupor. He shot awake, head cracking back into the mast behind him with a dull thud. The squawk in his lap repeated, louder, and more indignant than before. Something nipped at his nose, sharper than the brisk night air. He winced and stared down at the little turtleduck in his lap. 

“Hey you,” he mumbled, “no biting. Go back to sleep, we rise with the sun.” The little thing let out a mournful cheep, ruffling its feathers against its shell in a shiver. Sighing, Zuko grabbed the turtleduck by the nape of its neck and guided the little creature into the collar of his oversized shirt. It burrowed against his chest, vibrating in a pleased trill from the sudden warmth. Zuko rolled his eyes, shushing the turtleduckling and stroking its shell through his borrowed tunic.

“Yes, please silence your little charge. Some of us are trying to sleep.” Zuko bristled a low warning hiss built in the turtleduck’s throat at the disturbance. Amber eye peering through the darkness, he found a familiar large form slumped against one of the nearby crate stacks.

“Hakoda?” He asked. The man grumbled leaning forward into the lowlight between the shadows where Zuko could see him better to rest on his forearms, “You stayed out here with me?” Zuko’s eyes widened.

“After last time, I was under the distinct impression you had strong opinions about other arrangements,” He said. Zuko glanced away, glad for the shadows between them and the chirping of the turtleduck to break the heavy silence, “Videk and Tarsi would have too if they weren’t ordered otherwise. But if you’re awake now I suppose we could move to the cabin.” Zuko wondered why the man hadn’t woken him in the first place. It couldn’t have been comfortable sleeping there, “That thing isn’t going to bite me when I untie you, is it?”

Zuko glanced down at the little turtleduck poking out of his shirt collar who nibbled on the end of his phoenix tail. He shrugged, tightening an arm around his middle and its shell in protection. The prince held Hakoda’s gaze with a warning scowl. For his efforts he received an eye roll, “No said anything about taking it away.”

“You didn’t have to,” Zuko snapped.

“Can we discuss this when the sun is up, please?” He relaxed his hold slightly in agreement. Hakoda knelt and unwound the remaining loose bundle of rope from around the mast and his charge, with a wide berth of the turtleduck’s beak. The chief shook his head, if Zuko had bothered to stand, the rope could have slipped right off without Hakoda’s interference. But he wouldn’t. Blinking, he let out a visible breath of air into the night. At what point had every ounce of control in this situation disappeared?

No, it hadn’t disappeared. Instead, it transferred to the young, supposedly disgraced royal huddled against the mast. Freed, the boy stood and stretched his sore muscles. The duck cradled in the crook of his arm beneath the tunic he wore, chirped in displeasure at the disturbance. 

“You weren’t asleep anyway,” Zuko groused a mumbled retort to the duckling inside his shirt, stroking its shell through the material to soothe it despite his words, “You’re alright.”

Hakoda snorted. He took advantage of Zuko’s distraction with the turtleduck to guide the boy back to the cabin without reattaching the rope, merely draping it in a loose coil across the back of his own neck before settling one of his hands on Zuko’s shoulder to steer him below. They walked through the passageway and back into the cabin, with footsteps on groaning boards and quiet twittering the only noises between them. 

The door closed with a soft click, Hakoda sliding past Zuko to kneel in front of the bed. He rifled through one of the crates, transferring the contents of one of the emptier ones between the others and stuffing the others back beneath the bed. He pushed the empty crate toward Zuko, “What’s that for?”

“Prickliness, my trust in you does not extend to any so-called stowaways. I’m not interested in being bit in my sleep.” He reached into the nest of blankets and furs, removing a small one to line the inside of the crate, “It sleeps in there.” Zuko bit his lip, glancing down at the baby turtleduck, “The turtleduck will be fine, it’s like a nest.” A hand rested on his shoulder again, the gentle stroke of the pad of Hakoda’s thumb cajoling him to comply. 

Zuko pulled back from the hand, extracted the turtleduckling from his shirt, and settled it into the little nest. It chirped, fluffing its feathers as it ruffled up against the blanket and burrowed into the folds. Zuko watched until its eyes drifted closed. He stood by the crate, arms crossed. Hakoda rubbed his temples, a soft sigh passing his lips, “You sleep here, remember? Boys sleep in beds, not nests.”

Zuko raised an eyebrow, he gave a pointed gaze to the nest-like pile of bed furs and pillows in the corner beyond Hakoda’s bed. The man snorted, “You know what I meant, fire ferret.” He prodded Zuko toward the bed. With any luck, the two of them could manage a few more hours of sleep. The boy sat in the nest of blankets, leaning against the wall, “Sleep.” But he didn’t move from his position against the wall. He picked at the stitching of one of the blankets until he noticed the lack of rope.

“Hakoda?” Zuko asked, he snatched the rope from the man when he saw it to begin fashioning a loop for his wrist and a larger one for the chief while he waited for a response. The man rolled his eyes, but waited for Zuko to continue, “Who’s Renaq?”

The man’s gaze flickered, lips pressing into a firm line. He clicked his tongue. Pausing in kicking off his boots to offer the guarded answer,

“He  _ was  _ Videk’s younger cousin.” Amber eyes narrowed in the low-light.

“Was, what happened to him?” He asked.

“That’s not a bedtime story, Zuko.” The man’s voice held a warning, but Zuko wasn’t deterred, “Alright, get settled and I’ll tell you.” Zuko obeyed. He slid under the blanket, curling on his side. The smaller looped end of the rope slotted over his own wrist, tightening into place. He snagged Hakoda’s wrist to fit the rope onto his wrist, “La forbid we go without this,” Hakoda rolled his heavy eyes, “Hmm, now I assume you’re aware of the Fire Nation invasions of the South Pole, in the efforts to wipe out the water benders?” 

Zuko shook his head, “No? It was a series of raids designed to weaken our numbers, resources, and defenses.”

“Renaq was taken during one of the raids?” Hakoda nodded, “It was so the Fire Nation couldn’t be attacked.” Hakoda shook his head in response to the matter of fact statement, “But why else...” Zuko's fingers traced the edge of his scar, trailing off on the end of his words. His thoughts brought to the girl as the pads of his fingers brushed the spots her hand touched.  _ Betrayed first.  _ His amber eyes widened, skin ashen in the lowlight of the cabin. He pressed his hands into his face and mumbled something into his hands. 

Hakoda leaned forward to pry the hands away with a gentle shake of his wrists, “It was wrong.” The man didn’t respond. Even though he agreed fervently, it wasn’t his place to interfere in Zuko’s sense of morality, “Why doesn’t Videk hate me, then?” Hakoda rubbed his hands in slow circles. 

“Because he knows you had nothing to do with it, that you’d never hurt anyone if you had the choice. We’ve all learned that about you, Videk isn’t the only one to lose someone in those raids.” Hakoda rolled back his sleeve to reveal the betrothal necklace tied higher around his wrist, tucked out of sight. He tapped on the carved pendant at its center, eyes drifting from Zuko to the paintings of his children on the wall. 

The Water Tribe girl, Katara, he reminded himself, called it her mother’s necklace. Her fury and loss from her position against the tree greater than what could be attributed to a trinket. A loss Zuko knew. The loss of a mother. He stared at the wrapping on Hakoda’s wrist, tied with reverence and care. The loss of a wife. 

“Your wife was a water bender?” Zuko asked before he could hold the question back. Hakoda sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, the beads clacking cut through the silence.

“Kya? No,” He paused and then explained, resigned to the fact that sleep seemed to be out of the question. Zuko paled again, his pallor a sickly green in the pulsing lantern light. Sighing, Hakoda reached down into the box and lifted the sleeping creature. He pressed it into Zuko’s arms and yanked his hands back before the squawking turtleduckling could nip at him. The boy stroked its downy feathers with numb passes of his hand as he cradled it closer, his color returned in a slow creep, “That’s better, just take care of that thing and breathe.”

Zuko scowled at the label of thing being applied to the little chirping creature in his lap, “Now, you’re not responsible for what happened, any more than Katara. Do you think I blame her for what happened?” Zuko shrugged, glancing away, “I don’t, and I haven’t, not once.” 

He swallowed any comments about a parent’s responsibility to care for their child. The expressions on Zuko’s scarred face were different than he’d seen before, and these were the conversations that never seemed to end well even with predictable emotions. With snapping and brooding. His too-well-behaved prisoner lapsing into the throes of teenage rebellion. 

“And you don’t blame me, either?” Zuko asked. His voice small in the cabin from his knelt position in the furs. His face half-buried in the turtleduck’s ruffled feathers, amber eyes too wide to vanish behind the small, reptilian bird.

Hakoda couldn’t say not once to that, but the time he might have found blame in Zuko seemed so long ago already that he could confidently shake his head while resisting the urge to pull the crestfallen prince, turtleduck and all into his arms. But with the rope on their wrists, he couldn’t blame this embrace on restraining him. Zuko’s strange emotional state too could almost guarantee Hakoda a fresh set of unintentional burns to scar the boy with. Or at the very least a turtleduck bite for one of them.

“No prickliness, I don’t blame you for anything. Except perhaps the loss of a few hours of sleep.” The corner of Zuko’s lip twitched. He leaned across the bed to settle the duckling back into its nest before he settled into his own. Zuko rolled his eyes when Hakoda smoothed the blankets around him, “Sleep, at least a few hours.” The boy’s eyes drifted closed before Hakoda allowed himself to do the same.

Hakoda stirred some hours later, clearing his eyes of sleep and automatically letting his gaze turn to the nest of furs. The empty nest of furs. Cursing under his breath, he glanced down at the rope around his wrist and followed its trail off the side of the bed. Curled around the turtleduck, folded impossibly small inside the crate was the sleeping fire prince. Wide, dark eyes followed him as he sat up.

“Don’t look at me,” He told the turtleduck in a low voice, barely above the whisper, “I’m certainly not going to be the one to wake him up.” A low chuckle escaped his lips, as Hakoda dropped back to his pillow to sleep for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write a whole chapter just to get to the image of Zuko asleep inside the crate with his turtleduck?...Maybe.
> 
> Would I love to see someone draw that because my art skills are mediocre at best?...Yes. 
> 
> In other news I made a Tumblr, I'm still learning how to use it but you can follow me/ask me questions/ send me art (she says wistfully) here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thiscryptidischronicallyyours 
> 
> Other than that, as always, I love comments, discussions, analysis, feedback, questions, and kudos!
> 
> 💚Chronically Yours 💚


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under the impression nothing good happens when he lets other people supervise, Hakoda's left with no choice but to bring Zuko with him off-ship. If he can get Zuko onboard with the idea that is...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get poor Zuko out of this box, it's probably not very comfortable even if it is adorable...🐢🦆📦

Zuko breathed in a mouthful of feathers, sputtering out a muffled groan. His muscles twitched in protest from being curled up for too long inside the crate. They begged him to unwind and stretch. He blinked, eyes clearing from the weight of sleep, and followed the trail of the rope from his wrist. 

Frowning, as he found it traveled in the wrong direction above him. Away from the bed rather than toward it. Hakoda was already awake, and Zuko’s move to the crate hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he’d hoped. The turtleduck nipped at his quickly flushing nose. Zuko let out a low curse and shooed its beak away from his face.

“That had better not be what I think I just heard you say, Prickliness.” A passive shuffle of papers from the direction of the desk, so low Zuko had barely noticed their presence, stopped. He grimaced, tugged his fingers through the ends of his tangled hair, and began to smooth the duck’s feathers before he answered.

“So what if it was? I spent the last three years of my life on a boat, I picked up a few things. Besides, prisoners swear.” Zuko grumbled from inside the crate. He picked at the edge of the blanket instead of sitting up, despite the aches of his muscles. Hakoda’s chair slid back against the floor as the man turned from the desk to face in Zuko’s general direction. The chief let out a low hum. 

“Mmm, is that so? Not  _ my  _ prisoner. Especially one who seems to have developed a habit of sneaking out of his bed. Even if I’m still not sure how you’re managing that.” Zuko grinned scratching the underside of the turtleduck’s beak with his fingernails until it settled with a soft trill, “Would you get out of there before-” A single rap on the door cut him off and the door swung open. Hakoda groaned. Zuko stiffened his face flushing crimson against the thin blanket beneath him.

“Chief, where's the prisoner?” He heard the thuds of bootfalls against the floorboards, glancing up to see Podan and Bato’s twinkling eyes staring down at him, “Oh look, the prisoner finally got himself a cell.” Zuko scowled, sitting up to lean against the edge of the crate.

“Need someone to rescue you, kid?” Bato received a stony glare in reply. He turned to Hakoda, “Koda, you can’t keep my nephew in a box.” Hakoda massaged his temples, giving Zuko a pointed look. The boy rubbed the back of his flushing neck. He lifted the turtleduck onto his shoulder and stood up, with one hand lingering on its little shell to balance it. His muscles eased in their aching as he stretched.

“Not that my word counts for anything around here, but I’m not the one who put him there.” Hakoda offered Zuko a hand to help him steady himself, but the boy refused and stepped out on his own on his slightly unsteady legs, “After you’re done unfolding yourself, sit so I can check your ankle,” He said, rolling his eyes at his stubborn charge before he turned back to the others, “Did either of you actually need anything or are you just here for your own entertainment?”

Podan reached a weathered hand into his pocket, passing over a scribbled list on a torn scrap of parchment. 

“That should be the last of what’s missing from the stores.” Hakoda took it. He leaned over the list, scanned it over with a hint of a frown on his lips, and made a few notes of his own on the nearly non-existent margins before he handed it back. Squinting, Podan read it over and pocketed the list again. 

Hakoda turned his pointed gaze to the door, but the older man leaned against the wall with a smirk on his lips. Apparently content to linger beyond his welcome. Zuko scowled, bristling enough for the turtleduck to snap at his phoenix tail in its odd little attempt to soothe him. With a soft huff of air, Zuko tugged the hair away from its mouth and ran his fingers through its ruffled feathers to smooth them into place.

“I’m here on royal business,” The second said, and puffed his chest in mock importance. Bato revealed a blue bundle folded over his arm, passing it to Zuko. The boy took it and tried to shake it out without dislodging the little creature on his shoulder. It squawked in protest. Shushing it, Zuko unwrapped a well-worn blue parka. The hyde soft to the touch. Faded from wear and long days in the sun. Brows furrowed, he glanced up from the parka to Bato, “Videk’s spare, he insisted,” Bato explained. 

Zuko’s fingers brushed the cuff of the worn lining. He dropped onto the bed, the parka across his lap, and waited, “Try it on.” Zuko held up his wrist without a word as if he hadn’t been the one to put it there in the first place. The rope dangled and swung back and forth, nearly colliding the coil with Hakoda’s face when he knelt to examine the wrapped ankle. 

The chief caught the rope, glancing up at Zuko with a withering expression before he returned his attention to unwinding the makeshift bandage. He tossed Zuko a waterskin as an afterthought before he began to prod at the ankle.

“How does it feel?” Zuko rolled the joint and winced at the soft pull of the muscle when he stretched it to its limits, “Still a little tender?” He didn’t answer, but another prod gave it away, “I suppose that’s good. You won’t be able to wander off too far, if that inclination were to strike you.” Though Hakoda doubted that particular inclination would strike. Biting his lips, Zuko gripped the skin tighter. He brushed the side of his face against the agitated turtleduck to settle it and himself. It chittered, tiny claws grinding against the exposed skin where his tunic collar had slipped down. Wincing, Zuko forced his gaze up.

“Wander off where? What’s going on?” Zuko asked. He gripped the waterskin until it boiled beneath his fingers. The skin swelled dangerously toward bursting. Hakoda frowned, peeling the skin out of his fingers before another skin was lost to Zuko’s bending in the course of as many days. Zuko pressed his lips together. Podan took the skin, he vented the steam with a grimace before he tried to pass it back over to Zuko again. 

Zuko shook his head, his still too-warm fingers interlacing. The turtleduckling squawked but he didn’t dare pet it in case he’d singed its feathers. Hakoda sighed. He brushed off his legs before he sat on the bed, next to Zuko.

“You’ll be sticking with me today,” Hakoda offered. His tone guarded behind a forced casualness that Zuko couldn’t miss. Amber eyes narrowed.

“Off the ship?” The man leaned forward to take Zuko’s hands, but the prince pulled away. One set of knuckles pale and tight around the rope on his wrist. Hakoda wrapped a gentle arm around Zuko’s shoulders, shooing the duckling down to his lap. 

“Tell me what’s running through your head. I can’t help if I don’t know,” Zuko shrugged, “Zuko,” He prompted again in a gentle tone. The boy mumbled his reply.

“Prisoners aren’t supposed to be unrestrained, especially when they’re being transported.” Hakoda snorted before he could stop himself, trying to hide the strangled laugh in Zuko’s ponytail before the boy swatted him away from it. 

“I don’t think anyone on this ship considers you an actual prisoner anymore, other than yourself.” The boy scowled, “Why does that upset you?” Zuko felt every pair of eyes on him in the room. He bit his dry lips, tearing at one of the peeling edges. Swallowing, he wrapped his arm around the turtleduck, while still avoiding touching it with his hands as he answered.

“Because if I’m not a prisoner, what does that make me?” 

The question hung in the air. Requishment of his prisoner status would be as good as slapping a new label onto the title of banished prince. Traitor. It was any wonder Zuko was reluctant to allow that to happen. 

“A coerced cabin boy,” Podan answered from his place against the wall. Zuko’s nose wrinkled at the made-up term. Hakoda’s arm closed around him tighter until the prince sagged against his shoulder. A gesture distinctly lacking coercion. But with a soft sigh, Zuko’s head bobbed against Hakoda’s shoulder blade.

“Deal?” Another bob of his head, the duck squawked its agreement and Zuko snorted. He ran a hand down his back to soothe it, “Shake on it.” The chief felt Zuko’s fingers, hot against his, “And while we’re off the ship, we’re going to find you somewhere out of sight for you to get at least some of that fire out of your system.” He didn’t answer, leaning across Hakoda instead to snatch the man’s waterskin. Zuko took several long sips of the warm water before passing it back, “I’m also going to buy several more of these since you keep bursting mine.”

The boy crossed his arms and scowled as the others laughed. He watched Hakoda loosen the knots from his larger wrist, sliding off the loop before he turned his attention to Zuko. Bristling, Zuko covered his loop again, “Think about it this way, cabin boys, regardless of their coercive status, are allowed to have pets. I don’t think the same can be said for prisoners.”

Zuko cradled the turtleduck in the crook of his untied arm, holding out the hand with rope with some reluctance. Hakoda offered his shoulder a gentle squeeze, he let his arm slide away to reach for the knots. 

“Hold it,” Bato said, “let me see that hand, kid.” Zuko held his arm out without a word. He watched Bato unsheathe his knife, “Stay still,” He warned and sliced through the rope close to knots by Zuko’s wrist. Only the piece encircling his wrist remained, “There, one portable leash.”

Zuko cradled his wrist in his other hand, stroking the fibers of the rope until the duck nipped at his fingers demanding attention. Rolling his eyes, he lifted the duck in both arms. He settled it back into the crate nest with another stroke of its feathers and a muttered command to shush. The frayed edges of the rope brushed against his wrist until Zuko huffed and lit a tiny spark on the end of his finger to seal it off. 

“I guess, thanks Un-Bato.” Zuko ducked his head at his accidental tongue slip, knowing it hadn’t gone unnoticed with the chorus of deep chuckles that filled the cramped cabin. 

“Make me one of those,” Hakoda said. He held out his wrist while Bato and Zuko repeated the process, leaving him with a band of rope around his wrist. A silent promise of connection, even without the rope between them. Bato sliced off another piece of the rope and held it out to Zuko again. He sealed a loop around his own wrist. Hakoda raised an eyebrow.

“What? I didn’t want to be left out of this.” Before anyone else could speak, Podan piped up.

“The warden still doesn’t need a rope to supervise before anyone tries to offer me one.” Hakoda shook his head, Bato grinned, and even Zuko’s lips twitched as he slipped on the borrowed parka. Its thick, woolen lining enveloping him. Hakoda folded back his too-long sleeves that draped down over Zuko’s fingertips. 

“Didn’t know cabin boys needed wardens,” Hakoda muttered, resting a hand on Zuko’s shoulder as the boy burrowed deeper into the folds of the coat. Off the rope, or as close as they’d come to it since the prince’s arrival. While he would have liked to have gone without the rope all together, he supposed it was enough changes to ask of their new cabin boy at once. Coercion and bribery aside, the conversation went smoother than expected. He could only hope the rest of the day could turn out the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are 24 chapters later and Zuko is officially off the rope (or as close as I think we're going to get in this fic)!  
> Who would have thought that would happen by a quid-pro-quack? 💚  
> Tumblr link for asking questions or anything else, plus you can see my occasional attempts to re-learn how to draw...Also accepting turtleduckling name recommendations  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thiscryptidischronicallyyours


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko off the rope on deck, the naming of the turtleduck, and adventures off the ship part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Peeps,   
> Can I sing the praises of fruitcocktailSamurai for their amazing, wonderful, and perfect gift of Zuko, a turtleduck, and a box? No, but I'll sure try.   
> If you haven't seen it yet, go look at it! 
> 
> Meanwhile, here's your update!

Zuko stepped onto the deck ahead of Hakoda, the hood of Videk’s coat casting his face in shadows from the morning sun. He took a few steps forward and glanced back at the chief. The turtleduck cradled in his arms let out a low trill in the open air. Zuko lifted it to his shoulder with a steadying hand on its shell as he turned to follow Hakoda.

“You don’t have to stay right next to me, Zuko.” The boy stared at him, “Cabin boys have more freedom than prisoners or fire ferrets.” Zuko didn’t answer. He nudged a piece of rubble around with the toe of his boot. The hood sagged lower over his face, Hakoda snorted and pushed the hood back to see Zuko’s wide eyes. 

His warm, rough hand squeezed the rope around the prince’s wrist in a silent reminder of its presence. Zuko traced the band of rope around Hakoda’s wrist, his fingers hot to the touch barely contained. The chief winced. He steeled himself, not pulling away from the prince, “When we’re off the ship I’d appreciate you staying close, but for now go on.” A rueful grin on Hakoda’s face, as he qualified, “Preferably where someone can see you and not tucked away somewhere that would take someone hours to find.” The turtleduck let out an indignant squawk, feathers ruffling, “Though with that little one around I doubt you’d be as successful at hiding as you used to be.”

The boy half-grinned as he let his grip slide obediently and took a few hesitant steps away from Hakoda. He looked at the man again, receiving a nod of encouragement. Zuko took more stiff steps away to stand at the side of the ship, beyond the range of the fifteen paces he’d been able to take before. He stared down into the water below and gripped the railing to steady himself. The hood draped over his face again, even as the turtleduck nipped at the hem of his hood.

Zuko leaned against the side, watching the foam of the waves lap against the hull of the ship. He heard Hakoda’s footsteps recede against the deck after a few minutes of silence. Suddenly alone with his turtleduck, with too much space around him, and overwhelmed by the desire to do exactly what he’d been told not to do, and tuck himself somewhere out of the way.

But he stayed rooted to the spot. Lifting the turtleduck down to the crook of his arm, he brushed down its feathers that rucked up in the breeze. It chirped with his preening. From somewhere behind him he heard laughter and footsteps. He turned, catching sight of Videk and Tarsi ducking out of sight behind one of the supply stacks as Podan leered across the deck to find them.

Videk held a conspiratory finger against his lips, winking at Zuko. Zuko turned back toward the water and the turtleduck again before Podan stormed past.

“Don’t suppose you’ve seen those two idiots around, pr-,” he paused, “cabin boy?” He asked. Zuko opened his mouth, but chirping drowned out whatever he was about to say. Rolling his eyes, Podan waved him off, “Nevermind, your loyalties have been strained enough for one day. But  _ when  _ you see them, tell them I’m looking for them.” A soft twitch curled the corner of Zuko’s lip. He lifted the squirming turtleduck back to his shoulder and turned back to the waves.

* * *

Hakoda steeled himself as he stepped back onto the deck, letting out a soft sigh of air as he saw Zuko leaning against the ship’s side. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that he hadn’t moved in the slightest, or tested the limits of his newfound freedom. Strolling forward, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Videk leaned against Tarsi’s shoulder and stared up at him, a sheepish grin on his shadowed face.

“I’m surprised you’re not both over there with him,” Hakoda said. The young crewman pursed his lips, releasing them with a soft pop.

“He knows where we are, if he wanted to come over he could.” Videk picked at the woodgrain of the crate beside him. He swung one of his lanky legs across the boards to stretch it out, “Besides, prince hasn’t really been on his own in a while, and now that he’s not a prisoner...Well, figured we should give him a chance to just be.” Hakoda raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze drift back to Zuko who seemed to be conversing with himself or the little turtleduck in his arms. 

He shook his head, slipping a piece of jerky from his pocket and wagging it over Zuko’s head when he approached from behind. The boy grinned and snatched it from Hakoda’s fingers. Breaking off a tiny piece for the turtleduck, Zuko chewed off a piece for himself.

“I give you nearly the full range of the ship, and this is all you can think to do with yourself?” Zuko glanced down at the turtleduck. He tore off another piece of jerky for it as he chewed his own and swallowed.

“What else was I supposed to do?” Hakoda rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his lips. He pushed the hood back far enough to see Zuko’s face again. 

“Nothing in particular, I suppose. Ready to go ashore, Lee?” Zuko’s nose wrinkled, his head cocking to the side, “Zuko is a fire nation name, Lee is common enough not to draw attention.” Nodding slowly, Zuko pulled the hood further down over his face to hide his scar, “Speaking of drawing attention, I think your shadow needs to stay here.” Zuko frowned. He cradled the turtleduck close to his chest, “Does it have a name yet?” Hakoda asked softly, hoping to put him at ease.

“Noren.” Zuko’s face colored beneath the hem of his hood, “It’s from a play my mother used to take us to see every summer. And with his shell color, I figured he looks a little like Nori anyway.” He stroked the downy feathers that stuck up in the breeze, “I don’t want to leave him on his own.” Hakoda rubbed his temples, but before he could speak a shadow fell between them.

Tarsi held out a small scrap of rope, easing Noren from Zuko’s protective grip. He tied the scrap around the turtleduck’s neck gently and helped him settle on his much higher shoulder.

“Duck stays with me,” he said, tone firm without room for argument. He bent down to allow Zuko a chance to scratch Nori’s head, brushing his fingers along the rope with a soft grin before they disappeared back into the nook between the crates to hide from Podan again. 

Zuko tore his gaze away from the spot and followed after Hakoda down the gangplank.

His legs unsteady beneath him, he resisted the urge to latch onto Hakoda’s arm. The man tapped the rope on his wrist, “It’s alright, Lee.” Zuko's lips pressed together in a thin line but followed alongside Hakoda down the dock toward a marketplace thick with people. 

They wove between stalls of foods and fine fabrics, while Zuko kept his gaze fixed on Hakoda’s back. He ran into the man twice before Hakoda sighed and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, to keep Zuko beside him. The prince let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, glancing up at the chief.

“What supplies do we need?” He asked, “Other than waterskins?” Hakoda raised an eyebrow at Zuko’s weak attempt at humor. 

“A wardrobe of your own for one thing.” Hakoda led Zuko to a stall of clothes, letting go of him to sift through the piles.

He lifted a small brown parka, watching the teen’s nose wrinkle in distaste. Hakoda tossed it aside and showed him a burgundy one in a similar size. The prince bristled, shaking his head. Exasperated, Hakoda pushed him toward the stacks, “You pick something, then.” Zuko slid forward. He poked half-heartedly through the stack and glanced back at Hakoda, “There’s nothing there you like?”

Zuko mumbled something to the ground. Hakoda rubbed his temples, “Try that again, please.” The boy flushed and shook his head, “I can only help if I know what you’re thinking.” Taking a halted breath, Zuko sighed before meeting Hakoda’s gaze again,

“None of it’s blue.” Hakoda snorted but schooled his humor. He kept his tone soft.

“You don’t have to wear blue, Zu-Lee,” The chief offered. He watched the boy’s fingers twitch dangerously. Hakoda winced, wishing he’d thought to bring a waterskin. But Zuko breathed deeply and calmed himself. His quiet voice barely carried through the packed street,

“I know but-” Zuko trailed off. He ran his fingers along the cuffs of Videk’s spare parka, toying with the rope on his wrist, “I want to,” He managed. Hakoda smiled, adjusting the prince’s hood to cover the scar from any prying eyes. He put his hands on Zuko’s shoulders to guide him away from the stall.

“Then we’ll find you some,” He said. There had to be at least one stall in the market with something that would resemble water tribe gear for their new cabin boy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ThatOneRandomPerson for suggesting Nori for the turtleduck name. As I'm clearly fond of nicknames it's probably going to be used interchangeably with Noren. 
> 
> And for all the doubters, nothing's gone wrong yet... _But, will it? ___
> 
> __I hope to have the next update out for you sooner if school and spoons cooperate... until then as always💚Chronically Yours💚_ _


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trip to port part 2: Shopping trip and fishing trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I don't think I actually managed to get you your update any sooner than last time...   
> But the intent was there I promise. Anyway, here's Zuko gets his blue clothes and Hakoda goes _fishing _for some information...haha see what I did there?  
>  Or, just read the chapter, that works too...__

Zuko was sinking beneath a growing pile of blue strung across his arms. Enough to make him wish he never said anything. Brown seemed more appealing by the second. He was also certain no cabin boy needed that many pieces of clothing. The chief didn’t seem to be slowing down either. He held up a blue hair tie, with blue and white beads threaded through the front layers of it, tossing it onto the pile without waiting for Zuko’s approval. Bristling, Zuko shook his head and managed to slide it off back onto the table.

“I have a tie for my hair, I don’t need another. We’re done.” The man raised an eyebrow. He paid for the clothes and tie, pocketing the latter before guiding the boy away from the stall, “I told you I didn’t need the tie.” Zuko snapped. His hood nearly slid down before Hakoda caught it and held it in place for a fraction of a second longer than needed to put it right.

“Then it doesn’t have to be for you,” Hakoda responded softly. He settled a hand on Zuko’s shoulders and led him back toward the ship to drop off the pile of clothes without another word between them. Hakoda stopped again to purchase a small armload of waterskins, and a few packets of sweets wrapped in wax paper. He tried to pass a wad of taffy to Zuko, but the boy shook his pounding head. The dull ache, off-rhythm with their winding pace through the market. 

He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in his nest of furs in their cabin and nurse his sore foot, while he gave Noren some much-needed attention. But the moment he’d dropped the new clothes on Hakoda’s desk back on the ship, the man was already shepherding him back onto the deck again, “What’s on your mind, Zuko?” The boy bit his lip, “That had to be about more than just a hair tie.”

It was. “Tell me, please.” 

“I can’t.” Zuko turned away from him, leaning against the side of the ship to gaze out toward the waves. Of course, the phoenix tail meant something. Something the chief had already acknowledged he didn’t understand once before. Wearing blue was one thing, but if he wore the tie, it seemed that subtle change would alter its meaning. To what, Zuko didn’t know. Hakoda closed the distance between them. He caught Zuko’s thin wrist in his hand and gave the rope band a soft tug to remind him of its presence. Of the connection between them.

“Can’t or don’t want to?” He asked gently. Zuko didn’t answer.

Lips pressed together, Zuko stared pointedly down at his hands. Sparks prickled against the pads of his fingers. He clamped them closed, fire licking the insides of his slick palms. Hakoda’s eyes widened at the sight of the teen holding fire against his own skin without as much as a flinch. The flames perched on him while they gathered in force and threatened to spill off his palms to the deck beneath him, “Take a breath, Zuko.”

Obeying, Zuko took a staggered breath and then another. He matched the rising and falling of Hakoda’s shoulders until the flames extinguished in his palms. They stared at each other, gazes drifting down to the prince’s shaking hands. Back up again, eye to eye, “Alright now?” Zuko didn’t answer. Sighing, Hakoda reached for his hands but stopped himself just before their fingers brushed against each other, “Keep taking deep breaths for me, I’ll be right back.”

Hakoda left him. Footsteps pounding in Zuko’s ringing head. He locked his hands against his forearms behind him, not daring to let his hands stray to the railing. The prince couldn’t trust himself to do anything else but stand stalk still and breathe until Hakoda returned. Other footsteps flanked his approach. It shook the boards beneath his feet, “Ready, Zuko?”

The prince turned stiffly, hands still clasped behind him. His brows furrowed at the sight of the two fishing rods that leaned against Hakoda’s shoulder. He pressed his lips into a thin line, “We’re going to find a nice cove out of the way, and out of sight, remember?” He asked.

“Yeah, but why do you have those?” Zuko asked, eyes narrowing, his voice more brittle than he’d like. Bato snickered behind Hakoda. The prince glared at him past the other man’s shoulder. Hakoda followed the like of Zuko’s glower with a raised eyebrow without a comment. 

“Gives us a logical reason to be finding somewhere out of the way, but no saying we won’t make this trip a dual purpose one and actually come back with some fish.” Zuko paled but offered a jerk of a nod in reply. He allowed Hakoda to steer him off the ship by the shoulder, without an argument. 

Leaning against the side, Bato and Podan watched their two figures veering off toward the beach. Bato smirked, his gaze flicking over to the bearded man.

“Think we should have told him that his new kid vomits at the smell of fish?” Podan’s lip twitched. The remainder of his beard shaking. He shook his head.

“I think he’ll figure it out.” Their throaty laughs carried to Zuko and Hakoda’s ears on the breeze.

* * *

Zuko trailed beside Hakoda along the strip of beach, kicking pebbles into the foam that lapped against the shoreline. He slipped off his boots and let the waves rush over his feet in a rush of icy water. Gasping, he watched soft steam raise around his ankles. The soft fizz of heat from his skin battling the waves. He glanced around for wandering eyes, but they were alone on the narrow strip. No one was around to force his retreat from the waves.

Hakoda turned to watch his progress through the waves. He cleared his throat with a gentle cough.

“Now that we’re away from the ship, any chance you’re going to tell me what that was about earlier?”

Zuko kicked an oncoming spray of foam and stared out toward the open water. Hakoda snorted. He slipped the boots from Zuko’s hands, nestling them against a pile of rocks where they’d be safe from the waves. His own larger ones joined them before he rejoined Zuko at the water’s edge. The chief gave a gentle tug to the back of Zuko’s oversized hood to prompt his response.

“It’s complicated.”

“It always is, but try me.” Scowling, Zuko brushed Hakoda’s hand away from the hood and end of his phoenix tail. Hakoda shook his head, massaging his temples with the gentle clacking of his hair beads to soothe his fraying nerves. His eyes widened, “The ponytail means something, doesn’t it?” Zuko gripped the end of it in a protective grasp, his amber eyes equally wide, and answered enough for Hakoda, “Our hair means something too, you know?” He offered. A hand traveling unwitted to the worn surfaces of his beads, “Here’s Katara,” Glancing over the shorter braid, “And here’s Sokka,” He said, his fingers resting on the longer one.

“Mine isn’t like that.” His tone resigned, Zuko turned away to kick the water before it could rush over his feet again. The tide still won, but it was more satisfying to lean into its gentle drag out to sea knowing he’d put up a fight in the first place. Hakoda tried again, stepping deeper into the water beside Zuko. He ran a hand through the end of his wolf tail.

“You’ve seen our wolf tails, haven’t you?” Zuko glanced up at Hakoda’s hair. He crossed his arms, “We call them warrior wolf tails, everyone wears one. It’s our reminder that we’re all fighting for something.” Zuko stilled in the water, his eyes flicking to Hakoda, “Is that what yours does?”

“Sort of. It’s called a phoenix tail, for regaining what you’ve lost and rising again. That kind of thing.” He mumbled the end, trailing off and looking away. The boy’s fist tightened at his side. Hakoda pressed his lips together. The information sloshing through his brain like the chilled waves around his feet. It didn’t take long to fill in what Zuko left unsaid. While it seemed the young prince had lost many things, a few mattered above the others. His honor, his title, and his home. Complicated, weighted desires neatly wrapped into the simple burgundy tie.

Hakoda beckoned Zuko back from the water, as distant voices from the cliff face above them shattered the silence. He prepared and cast their lines, and sat. Zuko followed suit, after the explanation they’d be waiting for the group overhead to pass before he’d bend. But they seemed to be in no particular hurry to move along. 

Zuko huffed a smoke-tinged breath from his nose, flopping back into the sand behind him. 

“You’ll scare the fish doing that.” Hakoda’s low chiding carried to his ear, “Podan would be quite disappointed to know you were responsible for the fact that he couldn’t have fresh salmon tonight before we start on our route.” He passed over a piece of the taffy from earlier, watching it melt faster than it should have in Zuko’s fingers before he stuffed it into his mouth.

As he worked the taffy to the side of his cheek, Zuko sat up. Amber eyes narrowed. Sand cascaded from the back of his coat in a soft rushing patter. 

“What route?” He asked. Hakoda shushed him, pushing one of the fishing rods into his idle hands. Huffing again, Zuko followed the bobbing line between the gentle waves. The prince had no desire to catch a fish. His nose curled in slight disgust at the hint of the scent lingering on the beach, “What route,” He tried again at a hushed whisper. Hakoda raised an eyebrow.

“You really don’t know?” Zuko shook his head, “I suppose you did sleep through most of the conversation the other night.” Flushing, Zuko toyed with the band of rope around his wrist, “It wasn’t as if you didn’t need it. We’ve been replenishing the stores for your alternate route around the blockade.” With one hand he reached into the pocket of his parka and slid out a familiar piece of parchment, the dark lines stained in thick, uneven ash. Zuko swallowed the taffy, a hard lump in his throat.

The rod fell from Zuko’s hand, dragging in the water with the undertow before Hakoda’s quick reflexes snatched it back. He planted it in the sand before turning his attention on the prince again. His white knuckles dug into the sun-warmed sand grains, heating it further with barely contained heat of his own that brewed beneath the surface of his skin.

“No one was supposed to agree to use that, how did you convince them?” He asked, voice sharp and accusatory. Hakoda set his own fishing rod in the sand before he turned his steady gaze on his nearly steaming charge. He rubbed his temples before his hand drifted to the band of rope around his wrist, hoping to offer some comfort even without being able to touch him.

Unsure if it would make things better or worse, he let out a long sigh before telling him the simple truth.

“I didn’t convince them of anything, Zuko, you did.” One of the lines pulled taut. Tugging once, twice, three times with a twang on each bounce but neither looked away even as the line snapped into the waves. No fish surfaced, but Zuko still felt bile rising in his throat to betray him all the same. Worse still, they stared at his hands as flames flickered to life again, unbidden. As betrayed by the flames that made route abandoned on the sand between them as he was by the ones gathering in his quivering palms. 

Flames rising higher, lashing out of control. Little embers escaped his hold. They drifted down to the parchment in the sand and set it alight. The edges of the paper curling, obscuring the route in the fire. Hakoda winced as a spark lashed at his face, but held his ground in the uneven sand. He said something, but Zuko couldn’t hear it over the roar of the fire in his ears. 

It didn’t matter anyway. No matter what anyone said, no matter what he did, Zuko was a traitor to both sides. To have made the map was one thing, but for the enemies of his nation to be using it was something different entirely. People he couldn’t consider his enemies anymore. Suddenly Zuko felt the rope was back around him, tearing him in two directions. And everything was up in flames.

Fire cradled in his hands and eyes wild, Zuko ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hangs head in shame... _  
> But eagerly await your comments be they angry rants or predicts or anything else otherwise  
>  Here's my Tumblr too if you're interested in asking questions or anything there  
> https://thiscryptidischronicallyyours.tumblr.com/  
> I'll try not to leave you hanging too long, until then   
> 💚 Chronically Yours💚__


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakoda and Zuko on the beach the events and aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever made people wait so long for the resolution of a cliffhanger.   
> Sorry, it's been a rough week health and school wise but I'm starting to bounce back.  
> Without further ado, where we left off for your convenience  
>  _Fire cradled in his hands and eyes wild, Zuko ran... ___

His bare feet sliding for purchase against the loose sand, Zuko raced down the narrow strip of the shoreline. Pebbles and shards of broken shells dug into the unprotected bottoms of his feet. The prince’s spent ankle throbbed without the support of a boot or wrapping to keep it fixed in place. His heart pounded in his chest as he stumbled in the sand, catching sight of the blurred figure emerging from the dust cloud in his wake.

“Don’t,” He managed to spit out, as he barely dodged Hakoda’s outstretched arm reaching for him, “Stay back.” The flames clasped in his hands spiked with his order. Zuko jerked away from the chief. He collapsed and tumbled into the half-damp sand. Another thinner cloud kicking up into the air between them. Coughing out the heavy air, the prince blinked sand from his stinging eyes to clear them. Waves lapped at Zuko’s legs. The fabric around his knees heavy with ocean salt. 

He scanned for his escape route, his flames spiking unbidden again in his hands, but with Hakoda so close Zuko couldn’t think. He just moved.

His hands plunged into the water, hissing steam mixing with the kicked up sand to envelop them in a dense fog. The water roiled beneath his fingers as heat channeled out into the waves. A harsh sting crept through Zuko’s hands, the pale skin turning pink then red against the suddenly scalding water. He gritted his teeth against the numb feeling setting into his fingers but pressed on. 

A pair of blue-clad arms locked around Zuko’s core, dragging him back from the waves, “No!” He thrashed against the firm grip, “Get off,” Zuko’s eyes were wild. Every form he’d ever been taught flashed through his mind, but no amount of his years of combat training had prepared him for what to do when he didn’t want to hurt the person pinning him. He shouldn’t think that way. He shouldn’t feel that way. But Zuko did, “Hakoda, let go,” He begged, thrashing again, “you’re going to get burned. Let go.” 

“Not yet.” The man answered, his voice fighting to stay steady against Zuko’s struggles, “Apparently it needs to be clarified that when I said you were going to get the fire out of your system, using the ocean as your personal waterskin wasn’t what I had in mind.” Zuko fell still in his hold, “I appreciate your desire not to hurt me or anyone else, but it shouldn’t need to be said your safety matters too.” The man’s voice shook, “You may not believe it now, but you matter as much as anyone else, Zuko.” 

The prince shook his head. Zuko’s eyes drifted down to his reddened hands, beginning to throb mercilessly after their prolonged exposure to the near-boiling water. He bit his lip. His eyes began to prickle. Threatening to spill over, he shuddered and swallowed the thick feeling that built in his throat. Zuko sagged against Hakoda so suddenly the man stumbled backward. They landed in the sand, the chief losing his hold on Zuko with their impact. 

Zuko rolled away and scrambled to his feet, ignoring the opposing throbs of his overworked ankle and his hands. Glancing around to make sure they had no audience on or above the small strip of beach, the prince held his hands close to his chest. He squared his stance toward the rock face on the beach, took a deep breath, and let it go before he turned back to Hakoda over his shoulder.

“Stay back,” He ordered. Every inch of the prince that Hakoda rarely saw from him anymore. Giving him something to half-smile about as he was launching into his kick. Fire spiraled out Zuko’s foot. He landed, rolled into his next form with sand scattering in his wake, and launched another ball of fire at the rock face. He moved through his forms one after another, favoring his hands tight at his chest. Hakoda watched in silence, a mix of admiration and horror growing inside him as more and more fire poured from the prince’s small frame. There were more flames than Hakoda had ever thought possible. But it shouldn’t have surprised him. The smallest sparks still caused fires.

Sweat gathered on Zuko’s brow and plastered the ponytail to the back of his neck. Each exhale rattled his ribcage, spreading waves of ash and fire from his lips on each heaving breath until the flames sputtered out. 

Zuko stood, half-swaying from the efforts of keeping himself upright on the uneven, loose sand below him. The prince turned eyes half-hooded, stumbling into Hakoda’s waiting arms. Sighing out a breath he didn’t know he was holding until he let go, the chief sank into the sand bringing Zuko down with him. 

“I’ve got you,” He rubbed a slow circle on the prince’s back, murmuring low in his ears. His arms settled around Zuko to hold him closer. Grit pressed into the prince’s damp skin. Blinking, he squeezed his eyes closed against the sun. 

A waft of the salt drifting to Zuko’s nose, calling him into memory so distant he could almost believe it was a dream. Standing on a narrow strip of beach at Ember Island, the grit of sand digging up between his toes. A baby turtlecrab taking up all the space his small arms could hold, his muscles shaking as the eagle-hawk lazily swooped around them to toy with its prey. The natural balance of things disturbed by his attempt at a rescue. 

He was only trying to help and he was suddenly caught in the middle.

By helping the prey, he was hurting the predator.

Zuko remembered the salt spray stinging his eyes as he peered up the beach, longing for his mother and father to come and take the decision away from him. But he’d strayed too far down the narrow strip. Only Zuko, all of three or four, could fight that battle for himself. He stood. The sun beating down on his fair shoulders, all the more tender from the scraping of crab claws.

Swooping again, the eagle-hawk nudged Zuko backward. Water licked at his heels. He glanced down at the turtlecrab in his sore arms. Though his muscles shook, his mind wasn’t so ready to give in. The sand pulled backward nearly unrooting his stance and giving the bird time to dive again. Zuko threw up one arm in front of his face, nearly upsetting the baby in his arms.

But before it could reach them the waves rushed back in and knocked Zuko off his feet, pulling him out to sea. The baby turtlecrab fought its way loose from his grip as he tumbled through the waves swimming upward to the surface. He kicked, fighting his way to the surface. Another wave knocked him down. Water slid through his fingers as he thrashed. Fighting his own weight, fighting against himself. 

Arms were around him, dragging him up and out of the waves. He sputtered and coughed. Water leaked from his lips. He leaned against his rescuer's chest letting his eyes drift closed, wishing his father’s arms would stay around him to keep him safe and warm. But too quickly the arms released, dumping him to the chilled sand. 

His father’s colder voice ordered,

“Watch your son.” Zuko shivered as his mother gathered his clammy, small frame into her arms. She held him close, brushing water and sand from his pale cheeks. Leaning in his ear she whispered, but it wasn’t her voice Zuko heard. A deeper one replaced it. Warm, roughened hands brushed the grit from his face before settling around him again. They pulled him closer, away from the waves and depths of his memories.

“I’m proud of you, fire ferret.” Zuko’s eyes snapped, stunned back into the present by Hakoda's voice and his words. His arms still present around him. The chief might have felt pride, but Zuko didn’t understand why. He sighed, his eyes traveling down to his hands again. That long-ago day at Ember Island he fought himself and lost. Glancing at the pink skin of his fingers curled protectively against his borrowed blue parka, it seemed another battle with himself had met the same conclusion. Not quite the same, Hakoda hadn't dropped him in the sand. His arms were still around him, where the coils of the rope once intertwined. 

The prince was silent, even as Hakoda helped him back into his boots and half-carried him toward the ship. Their fishing poles abandoned on the little strip of beach for someone else to retrieve later on. He walked Zuko back toward below without a word of explanation to the others in their path. Tucking him into his nest of furs, running his fingers through the teen’s tangled, sweat-soaked ponytail to soothe him with a low hum.

The hand withdrew, and a soft groan slipped from the prince’s lips before he could hold it back. Low murmurs carried to his ears and moments later a soft weight nestled on his chest. Downy feathers brushed against Zuko’s neck, followed by a tiny nip on his ear. Clicking his tongue with a soft grumble, he rubbed his cheek against Noren’s beak.

The turtleduckling let out a sad sort of chirp when his demands weren’t immediately met with the appropriate response of feather strokes from his prince, but he settled next to Zuko’s head to keep watch as the boy’s amber eyes grew heavier in the call to sleep. Gentle nibbles on the ends of his phoenix tail pulling up back toward waking long enough to be aware of the hand that rested on his brow again. It swept sweat-soaked hairs off his forehead, glancing lightly over the outline of his scar. Through the haze of drifting exhaustion, Zuko heard a far-away murmur, “I’ll say it until you know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, discussions, rants, artful arrangements of emojis, or witty banter anyone?  
> Here's my Tumblr that's also available for questions and things, and I occasionally post _high-quality _art on there..._  
>  https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thiscryptidischronicallyyours  
> As always 💚Chronically Yours💚_


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hakuddles and care...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait didn't I just update yesterday...yes.  
> I'm considering this a celebration update because I just hit 1k kudos and I'm a very happy cryptid! Thanks everyone for reading, commenting, and kudos-ing! 🎉 It's hard to believe book one is almost complete, but the adventures will continue because if you haven't noticed this magically transformed into a series a couple of days ago.

Zuko stirred in his furs, greeted by his pounding head and a chirping. He groaned and raised the heels of his palms to his eyes. Gasping, he started at the tenderness of his skin. The prince’s eyes snapped open to stare down at his burned hands, pink and slightly taut from their prolonged exposure to the hot water. He trembled and held his hands away from him like they belonged to someone else. 

“Bato’s back in the market tracking down a salve for them,” Hakoda said from beside him, voice gentle, “Try not to move them.” Zuko nodded dumbly, he shivered even as Hakoda wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. The man gathered Noren into his arms, depositing the little duckling into its crate before he could brush up against Zuko’s hands and make the situation worse. Noren let out a woeful single squawk at his banishment to the crate, nearly breaking Zuko’s composure.

“Sorry Nori,” He whispered with more wobble to his voice than he’d ever admit to having, “I’m such an idiot,” The teen mumbled into the soft fibers of the blanket. Hakoda frowned, shook his head, and uncorked his waterskin. Zuko shook the blanket off one of his arms to reach for it, but the man tightened the blankets around him again.

“When I said not to move them, I meant it. You’re going to have to let us be your hands for a few days at least.” He guided the waterskin gently to Zuko’s lips, tipping it to let the water flow into his mouth, “Now let me be clear, you’re not an idiot,” He said as the boy drank, “But I will say this wasn’t the smartest thing you’ve done.” Zuko took another sip of water, turning his face away from the skin.

He brushed his dripping lip against the hem of the blanket. The boy’s voice thick and cracking ever so slightly as he spoke.

“Where does it measure up against getting washed out to sea after invoking the wrath of a barely teenage water bender?” His amber eyes flicking over to the drawing of the girl on the wall. Despite the passing of time, her cool gaze staring back still made him shiver. Hakoda raised his eyebrows as he followed Zuko’s gaze, his lips twitching in barely contained humor.

“La, is that really how you ended up in the middle of the ocean?” Zuko nodded, “Dare I ask what you did to make Katara that angry?” The boy paused. He bit one of his pursed lips, “Zuko, whatever happened in the past was the past. I’m not going to be angry with you or punish you for it. I may not understand them fully, but I know you had your reasons.” He opened his arms, cocking his head to the side in a silent question. 

Zuko let go of the lip he’d been worrying with a soft sigh. He stood in the furs to let Hakoda lift him onto the bed, allowed himself to be settled against his side, and slowly brought his gaze up to Hakoda’s.

“I tried to kidnap the Avatar while he was in the spirit world, Katara was protecting him. We fought, but it was still nighttime. The moon was out. We were surrounded by snow and ice, and she’d gotten stronger. She found a master in the North Pole. I wasn’t ready for it,” Zuko shuddered. He didn’t dare look up at Hakoda, knowing he’d see the same blue eyes reflecting back at him. The last thing he saw before the massive wave came crashing over him and dragged him out to sea. 

Hakoda nodded, resting his chin on top of Zuko’s head and rocking softly to soothe him.

“Remind me to thank Katara the next time I see her,” He said after a long silence between them.

“For what? Attacking me?” Zuko asked, stiffening again. Noren chittered from inside his crate as Zuko’s voice rose. The prince tugged himself loose of Hakoda’s hold to stare at the man in reproach. Snorting, the man shook his head. He pulled the blanket tighter around Zuko’s shoulders where it had slipped down. Loose strands of hair escaped from his phoenix tail were brushed away from his cheeks.

“No, of course not. For sending me a fire ferret,” Hakoda explained gently, his tone warm with humor. He brought one of his hands down to the band of rope, squeezing gently above Zuko’s burns. Not that he’d been a fire ferret back then. He’d been so small, so pale in the water they weren’t sure he was alive at all until he grabbed the lifeline. The prince somehow managed to hold onto the rope until he’d been dragged to the deck, sputtering and fuming with fire that wouldn’t light in the light. He’d fought until he collapsed to the deck boards.

Nodding slowly, Zuko slumped forward to rest his forehead against Hakoda’s chest. The sound of the chief’s heart thrumming in his ears until a knock on the door roused him, “That’ll be Bato.” 

“Do you have to move?” Zuko asked, feeling the rumbles of Hakoda’s chuckles against him at the slight whine in the prince’s voice. The man shook his head.  _ Not yet.  _ But not wanting to upset the peace of the moment, he pressed his chin into Zuko’s messy ponytail. Silent permission to stay put in his hold a little longer, even as the door swung open.

“Come in,” He called. Bato strolled in a tray in one hand with a bottle tucked under his arm. The second carried the tray to Hakoda’s desk before approaching the bed. He knelt down, catching Zuko’s eye.

“Hey, little prince,” Zuko’s lip twitched in acknowledgment but didn’t look up, “let me see your hands.” He sighed, turned so he slumped against Hakoda, and held out his blotchy, pinkish hands toward the other man. The man clicked his tongue at the boy’s reddened skin, “Kid, how you managed to do that I don’t know. Any longer and you’d have some matching scars,” He cracked open the salve, glancing up at the both of them, “No blistering, so I’d say these are these are pretty minor, but even so, this is going to hurt.”

“Then don’t do it,” Zuko muttered, “you’ve had enough burns and I can’t channel this time. Or,” Zuko bit his lip again, “there’s the bending cuffs.”

“I’m not leaving you like that. And if I had my way those cuffs would be at the bottom of the ocean already. We’re not using them. I’ll take the risk of some new battle scars,” Bato patted Zuko’s knee. His voice stern despite his soft expression. Noren chirped in agreement.

“Why?” Zuko asked, his voice small in the cabin. Hakoda squeezed his shoulders, rubbing his arms gently up and down. 

“What’s that very princely thing you say about responding to stupid questions?” Bato asked, he scraped out a small amount of thick salve into his palms and rubbed his hands together to warm it. He nodded at Hakoda over Zuko’s shoulders. Warm arms locked around the boy’s chest to pin him in place. Zuko couldn’t answer, he’d already pressed his lips together in a firm line.

“Not dignifying something with a response,” Hakoda filled in from behind him, “but I think he needs one. It’s not such a stupid question coming from him, Bato. Besides, it might distract him.” The second sighed. He began to apply the thick salve to Zuko’s delicate skin. The boy winced, his eyes prickling as the skin beneath the burns heated dangerously, his bare feet equally warm. Despite his bending on the beach, more flames ready to replace them.

“Wouldn’t your other uncle take risks for you?” Iroh had abandoned his whole life for Zuko, joining him on a poorly maintained ship on a quest where he was never supposed to succeed. He winced when more salve layered over his peeling skin. The prince nodded. He waited for Bato to continue, still unable to speak, “So why shouldn’t I? I’m your uncle too.”

“Sort of,” Zuko managed to force out, arching his back when the salve pressed deeper into one of the peeling spots. A gasp escaped his lips, and Noren squawked again. Hakoda squeezed his arms around Zuko until the boy settled against him again. Bato held more salve on the tips of his fingers, waiting for the jerk of a nod from Zuko to continue.

“Not sort of. Uncle,” he pointed to his chest, “nephew.” He pointed to the prince with a sense of finality that Zuko couldn’t argue with if he wanted to, “We all know the risks of having a fire bender on the ship, kid, and we’d all take them for you. Like we’d take for anyone else on the crew, cabin boy,” Zuko wanted to argue, but before he could think of what to say Bato had pressed on, “Oh, I almost forgot, the crew wants to retire the name fire brat. We have a few options and want your input.” Zuko’s eyes widened. He glanced up at Hakoda, behind him. The man rolled his eyes, relaxing his hold on Zuko’s shoulders.

“Bato, do not rile him up right now,” The chief warned, seeing the sparkle of humor in his best friend’s eyes.

“He’ll be fine, Koda. So,” turning his gaze back on Zuko, “do you prefer Beard Destroyer or Boiler of Oceans?” Zuko pressed his lips together, as another layer of thick cream was rubbed into his hands. Unable to answer, he leaned back deeper into Hakoda’s hold. The man stroked Zuko’s jawline with the back of his hand to soothe him.

“Really, Bato, Beard Destroyer?” Hakoda asked, “Is that supposed to be like Village Destroyer?” Bato nodded smugly.

“Podan’s idea, not mine. But we all agreed he needed a new name, especially after the complete favoritism he has to put up with on a daily basis.” Hakoda frowned, brows wrinkling in incredulity. Bato cocked his head toward the drawings on the wall where Sokka and Katara’s faces stood out between a growing sea of Zuko’s other drawings, “Only two of your kids have pictures on the wall. It’s just cruel, Koda.”

“But-That’s not-Zuko made-” Zuko glanced back and forth between the two men, Hakoda sputtering and glaring at Bato as he corked the salve bottle, finished for the time being. The second’s lips twitching. 

A sound, rich and peeling broke the tense silence in the room. Both men watched, eyes wide as Zuko laughed. His amber eyes light, highlighting the streaks of tears tracing the contours of his face in the flickering glow of the cabin. Head thrown back, he nestled into Hakoda’s shoulder and laughed until his face and sides ached from the efforts of sustaining it. Noren crowed right along with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so intentionally vague about the exact way Zuko ended up on ship for a really long time, so I'm really glad that it was finally time for that little reveal.  
> Hope you enjoyed the double update week (I do not intend on making a habit of it)   
> 💚Chronically Yours💚


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up care and Zuko's close shave with the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all,  
> I have a chapter for you! It's been a wild school week (this one really isn't any better, but I'm putting this out in the hopes it will help me focus in the right places).

After the stunned silence broke with a few rumbling chuckles of his own and Bato following suit, Hakoda hushed him to try to settle him down again. Though the chief couldn’t help but smile at the breathless remaining flush in Zuko’s cheeks even as his laughter subsided. He rested his palm on the side of the boy’s face to brush away the remaining tear tracks as Bato wrapped his hands quickly in clean, soft wrappings.

“Think you’re up to eating something, his giggliness?” Hakoda let his hand glance playfully over Zuko’s rib cage, nearly rising another fit of laughter in the threat of the impending touch. But Zuko schooled his expression with a twitching line. He sat straight against Hakoda and Bato carried over the tray, depositing it on the little side table, “I think I can take it from here. I doubt he’s going to want an audience for this.”

Zuko’s eyes flicked down to his hands in his lap again. The humor falling from his frame, his gaze fleeting at Bato ruffled his hair and padded out the door without another word. It swung closed with a soft click, the chief already scraping the side of the bowl. Hakoda lifted a spoonful of stew to Zuko’s mouth, eyes narrowing when the teen dodged it with a turn of his head. Scowling, the prince let out a huff of air dark-tinged with smoke.

“Feeding myself isn’t going to do that much more damage to my hands, Hakoda.”

“Maybe not, but you can consider it your punishment for doing something like that to yourself in the first place.” Zuko snorted, almost upsetting the spoonful of stew into his lap when he dodged it again, “It somehow needs to be drilled into your head that your safety matters enough not to injure yourself.” Zuko stilled.

“You give  _ terrible  _ punishments,” he said, but dutifully opened his mouth to accept the small amount of cooling stew. Hakoda raised his eyebrow and set the spoon back in the bowl. He gave Zuko a long look as he reached forward to trace the outer line of Zuko’s scar with the pad of his thumb.

“Is that a conversation you really want to start with me?” The boy shivered, shook his head, and opened his mouth for the next bite of stew instead. Hakoda relented. He lifted a small amount to Zuko’s lips, watching the boy hold it in his mouth for far too long before swallowing. 

The stew tasted of ash in Zuko’s mouth and caught in his throat. Gagging, he shivered but opened his mouth again without complaint. Hakoda let the spoon fall back in the bowl. He gathered Zuko into his arms, conscious of the boy’s hands, “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Zuko was quiet for a moment.

“Do you feel bad enough to let me feed myself?” He half-whispered, pressing into the crook of Hakoda’s shoulder so he could meet the chief’s gaze when he’d recovered. The man shook his head, bringing another spoonful back to Zuko’s lips. Zuko accepted the mouthful, “Worth a try. Can we go up on deck after I finish?” Hakoda clenched his teeth, sucking air between them with a soft whistle, “Just for a little while.”

“Every time I let you out of our cabin you get hurt, or find new trouble.” Hakoda gave a pointed glance down at Noren’s crate where the little turtleduckling had drifted off to sleep again. 

Sighing, Hakoda pulled Zuko's gaze up to his, “I’ll consider it, if you tell me what was running through your head when you did that, Zuko.” He took the moment of distraction as an opportunity to scoop one of the remaining spoonfuls of stew into his mouth. Watching him chew longer than he needed to before he swallowed while he gathered his thoughts. 

Shoulders caving, Zuko let his gaze wander around the cabin. From the nest of blankets in the corner to Noren’s little crate, to the drawings spread across the walls and floor. His new things still cluttered Hakoda’s desk from their trip to the market. And somehow amidst all of Hakoda’s own clutter, none of it seemed out of place. The man didn’t even call it his cabin anymore. At some point it became theirs.

“I can’t go home.” Hakoda set the remains aside, abandoning the dredges to congeal in the bottom of the bowl as Zuko continued on in his realization. The boy closed his eyes. His head sagging back against Hakoda as he continued, “Even if I had the Avatar, and I don’t know that I could turn him over anymore even if I could capture him, and none of that would matter because I’d still be a traitor. I betrayed Fire Nation secrets to the en-”the word died in this throat because he didn’t mean it and couldn’t, “and it wasn’t as if I was under duress. I wasn’t even interrogated. Not that it would make a difference if I was.”

“If I recall correctly you were restrained and waterboarded at least once.” Hakoda nudged him gently in an attempt to lighten the mood, his tone just as soft but Zuko didn’t open his eyes. Sighing, the chief turned enough to rest his chin on Zuko’s head.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. He would have preferred I drowned or stayed around long enough to burn the ship, then drown along with everyone else.” Hakoda paled, glad Zuko’s eyes were shut and missed his reaction to those statements. But he recovered enough to manage an uneasy, breathy chuckle that blew loose hairs into the boy’s face. 

The prince’s nose scrunched, raising his hand on reflex to brush the hair away until Hakoda caught it by the wrist to stop him. Gently bringing Zuko’s hand back down to the blanket, Hakoda brushed his hair out of his face.

“I’m glad you decided against that route,” he said, voice soft. Zuko nodded against his chin, a choked laugh escaping his lips. 

“It’s not that this isn’t better, but it doesn’t make me less of a traitor.” Zuko’s eyes closed again as Hakoda’s hand ran through his hair again, finger brushing against his temple and the line of his scar. The same spot a smaller hand touched. Her words ran through his head.  _ Betrayed first _ , “Agni, I’m safer on an en-enemy,” he forced himself to say it, “warship than I ever was in my own home and I can’t even call it that anymore,” Whether Zuko was referring to enemy, home, or both Hakoda didn’t know, but he’d already kept going, “Father never thought I could capture the Avatar. He didn’t want me back.” Zuko’s closed eyes glistened around their edges, “I was never supposed to succeed and for once I met his expectations.” Zuko’s voice was thick and breaking. 

His hands came up to press against his damp eyes before Hakoda caught his wrists, dragging them gently back down. Warm, roughened fingers brushed the tears away for him. Zuko’s blurry vision clearing on his own burned hands. Like the girl said, he’d fought against himself and lost. He’d fought for three years, “All that time,” he trailed off. She’d been right about everything. It was time to stop fighting. 

Hakoda brought his arms around Zuko, clasping them in front of him in a gentle hold.

“And I think it brought you right where you needed to be.”

“To be a prisoner turned cabin boy on a Water Tribe warship?” Zuko asked, his voice still thick. Hakoda snorted. He released Zuko from his hold, his hand drifting to the band of rope on Zuko’s wrist and squeezing it. There was more he could say and more he wanted to, but it hardly seemed the moment, “It doesn’t sound so bad, I guess.” The chief ruffled his hair, feeling the bristles along Zuko’s scalp.

“It’s growing again, you know.” Zuko turned his head to catch Hakoda in his better eye, “Want me to shave it down again for you?” After a moment of silence, the prince nodded, his tone reserved.

“Cut all of it.”

“All of it?” Hakoda’s brow furrowed, “But that means something doesn’t it?” Eyes darkening, Zuko turned his gaze back to the blankets tangled against his feet. He raised one of his shoulders, hunching them slightly.

“It doesn’t matter anymore if I’m not going back. Just cut it off,” he muttered.

Resigned, Hakoda waited for Zuko to make his way to his feet and settled himself on the floor in front of the bed. He fetched his shave kit, stopping off at the little crate long enough to scoop up the sleeping turtleduckling from its bed. With Noren deposited on Zuko’s lap, Hakoda hummed softly behind him. 

“Alright, how about for a distraction you tell me about that play where the little terror’s name came from?” Blinking Zuko craned his head over his shoulder, “If you saw it every summer, I expect you should be able to give me a decent retelling.” The prince’s eyes were still wide, “And if you named your pet after a character from it, it’s clearly something important to you. Go on.”

Closing his eyes, Zuko let his mind wander back to faded velvet cushions over splintered wooden seats. Fireflakes that made his tongue burn and eyes water, but never wanting to tear his eyes away long enough for a drink. Shushing Azula when she whispered in his ear.

“Well, the Ember Island Players butchered it every time, but,” he launched into a somewhat convoluted retelling. Unable to ignore the cool metal of the blade as it sliced through the phoenix tail, close to his scalp. Zuko stiffened and faltered in his story. His arm brushed Nori’s shell and feathers to keep the little turtleduckling settled.

But with the disappearance of the ponytail, he found himself sitting straighter. A weight suddenly lifted after being carried with him so long. Too long. Clippings of hair and the remnants of tear tracks clung to his cheeks, brushed away by Hakoda’s gentle hands and a damp rag after he set the razor aside.

“Alright cabin boy, I think we’re finished.” Zuko was quiet, “Do you want to see it?” 

“No,” he said, “can we go up now?” Hakoda sighed.

“I suppose you did hold up to your end of the bargain.” He bundled Zuko into his new parka, taking care to lift his hood over his freshly shaven head to ward off any chills. Though logically he knew the phoenix tail hadn’t offered Zuko much in the way of heat protection. Giving the turtleduckling a long stare, Hakoda emptied out a small satchel and lifted the strap over the prince’s shoulder to allow Zuko to carry Noren with him without his hands. 

With Noren tucked in his new place against Zuko’s hip, Hakoda turned his gaze on Zuko again, “Now, please, stay close to someone while you’re up there. I don’t care who, but with the preparations to launch there’s a lot going on, and I don’t like the idea of you without hands to catch yourself if something happens. Understand?” Zuko started to nod, “Now, I supposed we can’t shake on it like we normally do, but it’s about time you learned the Water Tribe way anyway.”

He clasped Zuko’s forearm, though the boy couldn’t reciprocate it, “There.” Releasing his hold, he adjusted Zuko’s hood again. One of his hands came to rest on Zuko’s shoulder as he guided him up on the deck, “And no working either, unless it’s supervising,” Hakoda mentioned as an afterthought.

With how seriously Zuko took his role of prisoner, it stood to reason he would feel the same about his new role of cabin boy. Wincing to himself with a half-grin, he wondered how long it would be before his charge would demand proper cabin boy tasks and lecture him on the fact that supervising wasn’t one of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, before I say anything about the chapter...I'm over the moon about having my first inspired fic, so thank you again Bluepaintedrose and check out Picture of Your Son if you haven't read it yet!
> 
> Other than that, not the happiest chapter for Zuko. But he made his choice and the ponytail is finally gone. 💚Chronically Yours💚  
> [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/thiscryptidischronicallyyours)


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The care and employment of your handless cabin boy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I turned in a giant paper and survived...cue the everything's fine dog meme.  
> So here's a very weird chapter.

Zuko didn’t seem to be in the mood for lecturing, thank La. He was quiet again, however, not unnervingly so. The prince didn’t seem so bogged down his thoughts as he’d been before. Zuko seemed more settled, somehow as he walked up to the deck. 

His new coat sleeves hung over his bandaged hands, face upturned to soak in what little of the sun’s ray he could manage. Noren squawked, burrowing deeper into his carrier against a gust of wind that rocked through the ship. Zuko leaned into Hakoda’s grip for balance with the sudden motion of the ship beneath him, glad for the grip to ground him, “Are you sure you want to be up here?”

Zuko turned back, eyes pleading “Right, let’s find a good place for you to be, then.” Hakoda scanned the deck, eyes narrowing in on two figures surrounded by a mounting pile of boots, armor, and stained polishing rags. Hands closing on Zuko’s shoulders he steered him toward Videk and Tarsi and announced their approach, “I see Podan finally caught up with you both, but I brought you two something.”

Without looking up from the boot in his grip, Videk groaned. He doubled down on the spot he was polishing before he muttered.

“No disrespect Chief, but we’re buried in work over here as it is.”

“Not more work, a supervisor.” Videk glanced up, offering Zuko a wide grin, “I assume that’s acceptable?” Both younger crewmen agreed quickly, “And acceptable to you?” He turned his attention back to his too-quiet charge, who offered his own mumbled agreement. With some reluctance, he pressed Zuko’s shoulders gently until he sat on one of the crates, “I won’t be far if you need me,” he said. His neck craned toward the tiller where Podan and Bato stood in a humored conversation. 

It went unsaid that he’d also be close enough to know if Zuko was trying to use his injured hands. Hakoda decided he didn’t need to be reminded. The bandages on his hands deterrents and protection enough from the majority of tasks. He ruffled Zuko’s hood as he passed but fixed it back in place before he walked toward the others.

“So what did the ocean ever do to you?” Videk asked, returning to his work. Amber eyes flicked to the bandages on his hands with a frown.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Zuko muttered. He swung his legs and let them smack into the edge of the crate with a satisfying thunk that vibrated the old wood. The noise roused Noren, who emerged from his carrier with an indignant quack. Grinning, Zuko shushed him and tried his best to smooth down bristled feathers with his forearms. 

“Here.” Tarsi scooped the turtleduck from his arms, fixing his feathers into place with gentle strokes of his large hands. Noren cooed half-dozing off under his touch. He slipped the turtleduckling back into his little carrier without waking him. Protected from the next breeze that blew through the ship, knocking back Zuko’s hood. The material slid backward and revealed his shorn scalp.

Videk let out a low whistle, but didn’t make a comment for once. He kept polishing, buffing the same spot over and over until Zuko cleared his throat.

“I think that one’s finished.”

“Thanks, prince supervisor.” He cracked a grin and moved onto the other boot in the pair. Videk supplied idle chatter as he and Tarsi worked, breaking only long enough to let Zuko provide the occasional, brief comment to fulfill the requirements of his supervisorial role. Flopping on his back against the crate, Zuko stared up at the clouds between craning his neck to  _ supervise _ . He scoffed thinking of the days when he’d spent dawn to dusk staring between them for signs of the sky bison, “What’s your head in the clouds for?” Videk asked, “Mourning the loss of your hair?” He flicked his rag at the prince, but Zuko blocked it with his arms.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just strange to not have to do anything.” Videk gave him a crooked smile.

“Oh, just rub it in.” Zuko met his gaze, upside down and a half-grin of his own, “I thought you were supervising?”

“I’ve always had something I was supposed to do. Besides, supervising like this isn’t a real job. Hakoda made that up.” The tips of his ears and nose red from blood flow and the gentle flush of cold.

“You want a real job?” 

“Desperately,” Zuko said. Videk’s lip twitched around its corners, the way it always did when he was trying not to laugh. With all the seriousness he could muster, he answered.

“Your job is to not set the ship on fire.” Zuko snorted, “Arguably the most important job on the whole ship.” Shaking his head, Zuko turned himself over before all his blood could rush to his head. Noren’s carrier draped against the crate’s front and roused the turtleduckling again. He wormed his way from the carrier to settle against Tarsi’s side with a low trill.

Setting his boot and rag aside, Videk wiped off his hands on his pants before retrieving a wrapped parcel from one of his pockets.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a break, ever heard of it?” Videk asked. Zuko frowned at the polishing pile, which had hardly diminished. Zuko nodded with a shrug. Uncle had always said a man needed his rest, not that he’d ever listened before he’d come to be on the Water Tribe ship, “Good, you want some?” He unwrapped the parcel to reveal sausages. Rolling his eyes, Zuko flopped against the crate again with a huff. 

“I can’t. I’m not supposed to use them,” he lifted one of his wrapped hands. Being fed by Hakoda in the privacy of the cabin was bad enough. Videk hummed, sucking one of his cheeks in thought.

“Open your mouth.”

“I don’t want to be fed,” he groused. 

“Just do it.” Zuko reluctantly complied, “Good, now catch.” He pinched off a small piece of one of the sausages and tossed it toward Zuko’s open mouth. Narrowly missing, the piece landing on the deck boards with a splat. Snorting behind his hand, Videk held up another piece, “Let’s try that again, or are you as bad at catching sausage as you were the Avatar?” 

Eyes narrowing, Zuko sat up, opening his mouth to shoot back a retort. Videk launched another piece, landing it on the prince’s tongue. He laughed as Zuko chewed furiously and swallowed.

“For the record, I wasn’t bad at catching the Avatar.” A huff of ash spread from his nose. 

“Of course not, that’s why you’re here with us.” Videk shrugged, still grinning as he waved one of the cleaner rags to clear the air of ash. 

“Just throw another piece,” Zuko ordered. 

“As you wish, prince supervisor.” Offering a mock salute, Videk tossed another piece for Zuko. Then more with varying success. Scattered sausage and the occasional snort spread through the deck.

Podan and Hakoda strolled over to the trio, hearing the low scuffle of movements that sounded distinctly nothing like boot polishing. Something soft squelched beneath Hakoda’s boot. Glancing down, his gaze narrowed down on a small piece of meat. Further inspection showed the deck boards surrounding the trio were littered with bite-sized pieces of them. 

Zuko’s hood had slipped down. A flush filled his face from the chill, but also barely contained humor at the same time. He bit his twitching lip. Hakoda found himself trying to keep his own expression stern, despite his desire to laugh.

“Why is there a sausage invasion on the deck?” Podan asked, shattered everyone else’s resolve in a fit of chuckles.

“Videk’s fault,” Tarsi said, his typical cool expression breaking momentarily. Videk jabbed his ribs with one of his bony elbows. The quiet crewman flicked his temple in retaliation and Videk winced.

“Only because the cabin boy’s stomach was rumbling loud enough to alert the Fire Nation of our location,” Videk announced when he regained his breath from laughter. He massaged his temple, giving Tarsi a look of reproach. The larger leaned against Videk’s shoulder in a silent apology, as Zuko let out an indignant huff at the false accusation, but fell silent when Hakoda rested a hand on the prince’s shoulder, “We responsibly saw to it, without putting unnecessary strain on his recovering hands.”

“Yes, so responsible to throw them around, rather than just putting the food into his mouth,” Hakoda pointed out, rubbing his temples. 

“That would have been an unnecessary strain on his dignity and  _ honor _ .” Videk shrugged as if that should have been obvious, he nudged Noren to rouse the little turtleduckling. After a few displeased chirps, Noren honed in on the loose sausage pieces and began pecking at the nearest one, “There. They’ll be gone in a few minutes.”

The two older crewmen rolled their eyes, but couldn’t argue with the logic. Not to mention it saved anyone else the task of having to try and feed the little beast later on. 

“Fine, take all that back below, you can finish them some other time. No dawdling. Launching position after that,” Hakoda said. Tarsi and Videk gathered the piles up, and took off below as quickly as they could manage. After a few more scrounged bites of sausage off the deck boards, Noren was captured and returned to his carrier with a shrill squawk of disapproval, “And I suppose you’ll be wanting a launch position?” He turned back to Zuko.

“Not in our cabin.” The boy’s jaw set in the beginnings of a stubborn line.

“I wasn’t going to suggest that.” Hakoda held up his hands in mock surrender, despite the fact that he would have liked to do just that. But Zuko was a part of the crew now and entitled to be a part of the goings-on, “How about you go supervise Podan at the tiller?” Zuko bit back a comment, rolling his eyes at his chief, “Best I can do.” Hakoda chuckled, “As soon as those come off, we’ll find you real work. I promise.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose at the bandages, “Go on.” Hakoda craned his neck toward Podan, already heading toward the tiller. Zuko scrambled after him, settled himself and Noren against the nearest side, and watched Podan as he leaned against the mast. The man stroked the ruined remnants of his beard, appraising Zuko beneath a cocked brow.

“So, was the shaved head an intentional decision,” he waved at his hand at Zuko’s head, “or does ruining people’s hair run in the family?” He asked. Chuckling at Zuko’s stony glare, he shook his head and slid out a chart from his sleeve, “Fine, beard destroyer. Just see how well I replicated your map after you burned the first one.” Zuko checked it over, expression neutral.

“It’s close enough for now.”

“Alright, get supervising then.”

“You don’t have to call it that. I know that’s not a real job,” Zuko muttered more to Noren than the older crewman. Podan raised a bushy eyebrow. He crouched on the deck in front of Zuko.

“Cabin boys watch and learn. You’ve spent years on a ship, but did it have a tiller or sails?” Zuko shook his head, “So, call it what you want, watch or  _ supervise _ , but do your job and learn something, cabin boy.” 

Noren let out a defensive chirp from his carrier, “And keep that thing from getting underfoot if you can. Understand?” Zuko nodded, “Good.” Podan pushed himself back to his feet and brushed himself off, taking his position at the tiller. And Zuko watched. He felt the jolt and lilt of the ship with its launch out to sea. His eyes followed the trails of ropes and swelling sails, not looking back at what he was leaving behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Tumblr follows are very acceptable Valentines!  
> I started posting a little bonus mug series for the characters there starting with Bato's mug.   
> Love you all and I might be saner again in my next update.  
> [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thiscryptidischronicallyyours)  
> 💚 Chronically Yours 💚


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finding his place on the ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or should I have said Zuko gets _shown the ropes _....  
>  There's a lot more that happens, but I don't really want to give it away (nor do I want to write a summary)  
> Welcome to another monster chapter! I'm on mini-spring break so I have a midweek update for you all. We're almost at the end...and there are still some _loose-ends to tie-up _for book one.____
> 
> ____Okay, enjoy! 💚_ _ _ _

Three days with the endless expanses of the sea ahead of them. Zuko wandered the deck, drifting from crewmember to crewmember. 

He watched.

He asked questions.

He learned.

He subsisted off morsels of food tossed his way, with Noren trailing after him to collect what he missed. 

Despite having set their course himself, Zuko felt aimless like he was back in the water and lost at sea. He leaned against the side of the ship and watched the waves when he wasn’t watching the crew. Staying out long after the sun slipped beneath the horizon until Hakoda wrapped an arm around his shoulder and guided him back below.

“What are you looking for out there?” The man asked when he helped Zuko out of his parka and folded it over the back of his desk chair. Zuko sank onto the bed, he shrugged as he kicked off his boots in a crumpled pile on the floor for Hakoda to collect. Rolling his eyes, Hakoda slid them off to the side by the wall.

Zuko flopped back on the bed furs, Noren a warm weight on his chest.

“Where we’re going, I guess.”

“I think you’ve been out in the sun too long, you know that,” Hakoda sat on the bed, the mattress dipping between them, “it’s your route.”

“I know what direction and where, but I don’t know why.” He’d always known why he was doing something before. Learn firebending so he wasn’t a disappointment. Learn swordsmanship because he wasn’t a good enough firebender and he needed to be good at something. Take care of Azula because no one else would...until the glint in her eye turned cold and she didn’t need him anymore. Fight in the Agni Kai because he’d shown disrespect and dishonor. Find the Avatar to restore what he’d lost. Survive because he had no choice.

This was different. Zuko had never known how to live.

“Perhaps you won’t smoke out future war meetings if you want to know things like that.” Hakoda chuckled. He lifted Noren from Zuko’s stomach to deposit the turtleduckling in his little nest, before returning his attention to the disgruntled, banished prince himself, “We’re meeting up with some other ships in the fleet. Safety in numbers, to increase our defenses and stretch supplies further.”

“And increased forces to attack?” Zuko prodded. Hakoda’s smile was thin and forced, not reaching his eyes.

“That may be related. Let’s get you settled.” Zuko slid into the nest of blankets, allowing Hakoda to drape one of his favorite bedfurs over him. The man’s hand settled around the band of rope and squeezed gently, “I know loyalties and betrayals are complicated matters. No one here will ask you to do more than you’re willing to do. All you have to be right now is Zuko. Understand?”

Zuko nodded slowly. Unsure what else he was supposed to say. He settled back into his pillow, staring up at the ceiling beams and counting the grooves in the wood when his eyes refused to close and his mind refused to settle.

Zuko...Agni, who was that supposed to be?

* * *

A muffled yelp and sudden, warm weight knocked the breath from Hakoda’s lungs, shocking him from his sleep. He groaned as his eyes opened to see his charge’s own spooked eyes staring back at him from a tangle of limbs. Zuko scrambled backward against the furs, his shoulders hunched and cheeks flushed.

“Prickliness, were you trying to climb the wall?” Hakoda asked, his voice still heavy from sleep. The scene brought him back to what felt like so long before when he’d found the boy huddled in the bedfurs in the crew cabin.

“It worked better when I could use my hands,” Zuko mumbled. Eyes narrowing, Hakoda’s gaze shifted to the wall. The shallow grooves along one of the boards were littered in a trail of darker spots from Zuko’s fingers he’d never noticed before. He snorted, at least one of the mysteries of his charge was finally solved. 

“Is that so? Well, I’m glad you didn’t manage to escape this time, Bato will be around soon to check your hands. It would be rather inconvenient to have to hunt you down.” Zuko turned over on his stomach, “Then, we’ll see if you really like having jobs to do.” He ruffled the soft fuzz of hair growing on Zuko’s scalp.

Huffing, Zuko settled against his touch, “I think it will be good for you, getting out of that head of yours, instead of brooding.” Zuko sniffed, pulling his gaze up from the blankets.

“I haven’t-” Hakoda raised his eyebrow, “well, maybe I have. But I haven’t been able to do anything for days, and it’s hard to  _ just be Zuko  _ or whatever you were saying if Zuko is useless.”

He waved his bandaged hands for emphasis, nearly smacking Hakoda by accident before the man caught them by his wrist and lowered them to the bedfurs. Zuko offered a sheepish grin.

“You aren’t useless, any more than you’re an idiot. I don’t like you saying those things about yourself. Where you got those ideas from is easy enough for me to guess, but we’re ending that here, fire ferret.”

A tone that was sterner than he meant was interrupted as the door creaked open. Bato strolled in, a bottle of ointment tucked under his arm. 

“What are we ending?” Bato asked, he cocked his head to the side, one of his eyebrows raised. Zuko shrugged. Hakoda rolled his eyes at the unannounced entry. Glancing away from his charge, he turned to his second. 

“Your nephew’s bandage imprisonment, with any luck.” Bato knelt in front of the bed. He patted the mattress’s edge for Zuko to shift forward, giving him better access to his hands.

“Let your uncle see what he’s working with, then.” For once, Zuko had no argument.

* * *

The sun slipped beneath the waves, the crew without positions gathered together on deck in a loose circle. Podan, who had been replaced at the tiller sometime before, returned to the deck with his guitar in hand. The remains of his beard, however, were notably absent. A low rumble traveled through the circle, though no one dared to mention it.

Zuko’s eyes narrowed on something else strange about Podan’s appearance. He raised one of his unwrapped hands to stop the man as he passed.

“I thought wardens didn’t need rope?” Because there, nestled in Podan’s greying wolf-tail, in place of his normal tie was a scrap of rope. The man rubbed his bare chin with a shrug.

“They don’t, usually, but my tie just broke and this is as good of a replacement as any. Don’t put too much thought into it, cabin boy.” Zuko cracked a half-smile, knowing there was a brand new tie back in their cabin he could have used if that were really the case, but nodded, “Good, now,” Podan gaze shifted around the circle, “if you’ll if you can keep all rope and tie business to yourself, I believe I can make it worth your while.” 

He slipped a flask from the pocket of his deep blue parka. Zuko’s eyes widened, sitting straighter against the side of the ship, “Now, just a sip and you keep it yourself where you got it from if anyone asks.” He raised an eyebrow. Zuko nodded slowly, his lips opening to allow a small amount of something dark and bitter to pour into his mouth. He grimaced as he swallowed, a heat like his inner flame built behind his cheeks. It radiated down his throat and settled in the pit of his stomach.

Podan shooed him off toward Videk and Tarsi, “And keep those two idiots out of trouble, would you?” 

“I make no such promises,” Zuko said.

“Ah, cabin boys do learn.” Podan chuckled as Zuko sped across the deck toward the others.

* * *

Zuko stroked his fingers through Noren’s feathers, the turtleduckling settled in the space between his knees and chest. He leaned against one of the crates shoulder to shoulder with the other younger crewman. Somewhere nearby someone struck a sour note against strings, making him wince. He shushed Noren before he could start squawking as the music started up.

“Do you see anyone coming this way, prince?”

“No, but you can’t call me that anymore. I’m not a prince.” Videk chewed the inside of one of his cheeks for a second. He wrinkled his nose.

“You still are, but music nights are not the time for identity crises, we can get into this some other time,” Videk leaned out to peer around the stacks, “For now, I’ve got something that might help us out.” He slid a small, familiar flask from his sleeve. His eyes gleamed in the lantern light, “If Podan asks, none of us have seen this anywhere.” 

A crooked, conspiratorial smile framed Videk’s face. Tarsi rolled his eyes, but took the flask from Videk’s hand and twisted it open. Taking a small swig before passing it to Zuko, he coughed as the dark liquid burned the back of his throat, “And if Hakoda asks, we’re not the ones giving this to his cabin boy.”

“I don’t tell him everything,” Zuko grumbled and took another sip before he passed it along to Videk. They passed it in their loose circle. The warmth spreading through his cheeks, down through his throat, and settling in his stomach. With each swig, that feeling lingered a little longer and Zuko found himself floating.

He snorted as a string snapped, “I love that song.” All three dissolved into laughter, loud enough to summon Bato to lean over one of the crates.

“What are you three up to over here?” Zuko bit his lip, sliding the mostly empty flask behind his back. He fought to keep his lips from twitching and couldn’t quite meet Bato’s gaze.

“Love Amongst the Dragons,” Tarsi said, as straight-faced as he could manage. Bato raised his eyebrow at their flushed faces. He crossed his arms on top of the crates, balancing his chin on the stack. His bemused expression permission enough for Videk to elaborate. 

“Cabin boy was regaling us with his reviews of the worst performance he ever saw,” Videk let the lie roll smoothly off his tongue. Bato surveyed the group.

“Is that so?” Zuko nodded slowly, “I’m all ears.”

“Well, this one time, the Dark Water Spirit fell off the stage in the middle of his battle with Noren. His mask broke, so he had to fight with one hand while trying to hold his mask together with the other hand. It totally ruined the effect.” Noren let out a quack of agreement, “See you weren’t even there, but you still know how bad it was...” He trailed off on his ramble to the turtleduckling, before he glanced back up at Bato sheepishly, “Are you going to tell Hakoda?”

“No...I’ll refill it for you if you don’t tell him who gave it to you.”

“Deal,” the three said in unison.

* * *

Hakoda glanced around the circle and outer reaches of the deck in the fading light. But his cabin boy was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t know whether to take comfort or more worry in the fact that Videk and Tarsi were noticeably absent as well. Turning to Bato, he opened his mouth to ask the question consuming his thoughts,

“Haven’t seen them,” Bato began before he could get his words out, “it’s really too bad you don’t have a leash to keep track of your kid, Hakoda.” He smirked. Hakoda rubbed his temples, shaking his head.

“Don’t remind me, and he’s not mine, Bato. Not really.” Bato’s eyes gleamed in the lantern light.

“And when are you going to fix that?” Hakoda rolled his head backward, staring up at the moon. He rubbed his temples again, “There's never going to be a good time, to do it, if that's what you're waiting for. Just go find him, it’s not like you’re going to enjoy yourself or relax until you do.”

Hakoda sighed, pushing himself to his feet and wandering toward the side of the ship to check Zuko’s usual haunts. He circled the deck. The boards creaking beneath his boots. A scuffle of footsteps, laughter, and quacking carried to his ears. Peering through the low light, Hakoda caught sight of Tarsi and Videk slipping below with Noren following after them, but no slighter figure beside them. 

He was about to follow after them, but something else carried to his ear. A tuneless humming from behind one of the crate stacks. Approaching with soft steps, he rounded the stack to find Zuko lying on his back in the center of the pile. 

His hood knocked backward, full face exposed and flushed. But more than could be explained by the cold. He was relaxed, indeed humming something tuneless to himself that didn’t match at all with the distant music of the circle. More relaxed than Hakoda had ever seen him. Perhaps too relaxed. 

The chief’s eyes narrowed, taking a few steps forward. A shadow casting over Zuko’s face. His nose scrunching as he peered through the shadow. Zuko stopped humming. He popped his lips, a small plume of smoke escaping his lips and rushing into Hakoda’s face. The man cleared it with a wave of his hand. A bitter scent of burning lingering to cover the familiar, sour smell in the air.

“Hello, Zuko here.” Zuko snorted, watching Hakoda clear the smoke. He sat up, leaning against Hakoda’s legs to bask in his combined warmth and steadiness they provided him.

“Mmm, Zuko here, indeed,” Hakoda said, he eased himself down to the deck and shifted Zuko’s back against his chest to offer him more support, “and who gave Zuko here a flask, exactly?” 

Turning to catch Hakoda’s eye, Zuko wrinkled his nose and shook his head before he settled against the chief’s parka again. He burrowed deeper into Hakoda’s hold to shelter against the cold, despite the warmth radiating from his frame. 

“Not supposed to say.” On the p, the boy popped his lips again, another plume of smoke traveling up into the night air. Hakoda shook his head. La forbid they made it this far to have Zuko lose his control over something like this, but it seemed harmless enough for the moment. 

“Alright, who told you not to say then,” He asked, cracking a smile. But Zuko had maintained enough of his wits to shake his head.

“Don’t think I’m supposed to say that either.” The boy answered, much to Hakoda’s bemusement.

“Do you lie any better like this than normal?” Zuko shook his head emphatically, hard enough for him to sway gently until Hakoda set him right.

“So, I’d prefer if you would conclude your line of questioning,” The rare reappearance of the princely language made Hakoda laugh and wrap his arms around Zuko a little tighter, as the boy lolled against him.

“Well, I suppose you’re not a prisoner anymore, so an interrogation wouldn’t be appropriate.” Zuko shook his head, “Fine, I’ll drop it if you can agree not to make a habit of this.” Zuko nodded, “Though I suppose there’s worse trouble you could get into if you really wanted to.” 

“You mean because I’m a firebender, on a wooden ship?” He popped the end of the word ship, another plume of smoke. Hakoda chuckled, shaking his head. 

“No, because you’re just a teenager and clearly surrounded by bad influences.” Zuko was quiet for a while. He toyed with his rope band, one of his hands wandering up to Hakoda’s rope band and tracing that with his fingers.

“I didn’t have a lot of good ones before, other than my uncle, but I didn’t let him…” Zuko trailed off, his gaze drifting toward the sea. There was nothing to see, but Hakoda allowed the boy to stare out into the night for as long as he needed. He waited until Zuko had turned back to him to speak.

“Tomorrow, your first assigned work as a cabin boy can be to write him a letter, so he knows you’re in one piece.”

“But he already turned his life upside down for me once, I don’t want him to do that again. Wherever he is now, he’s probably better off without me.”

“Let him have that choice, Zuko. He should know.” Hakoda cleared his throat, “Speaking of choices, there was something I wanted to discuss with you.” Zuko hummed in response, “You aren’t a prisoner anymore, you know.” Zuko nodded, giving Hakoda a sly sideways glance, “I wanted that to be clear because this would be your choice, and whatever you decide is fine. This isn’t a conversation happening between a prince and chief, prisoner, and captor, or even a cabin boy and captain. This is only between Zuko and Hakoda.”

“Think those are the same people. Hakoda is a chief and Zuko is a damaged prince.” He pressed his scar side into Hakoda’s parka as if that could make his history drown into the blue. Even for a moment. Hakoda wrapped his arm tighter around Zuko.

“You know you didn’t deserve what happened to you, don’t you?” He asked. Zuko shrugged in response.

“I’m starting to.” Hakoda sighed, tucking Zuko’s head beneath his chin. He knew for the time being that was the best he could expect, “But what choice?”

“Well..” Clearing his throat, as his nerves faltered, Hakoda glanced at the abandoned flask on the deck boards, “La, any chance there’s some left in there?” Zuko shook his head, “Just as well, I suppose one of us has to keep our full wits.” Craning his neck back, Zuko gave him a withering look as if to tell him to get on with it, “Alright, fire ferret, you know that joke the crew likes to make about you being my kid?” Zuko nodded, “Well, I was looking at the pictures of Sokka and Katara on the wall, and I couldn’t help but feel like Bato was right and there was a picture missing next to them.” Zuko went rigid against him, sobering some.

“You don’t mean that.” He picked at the band of rope on his wrist. Hakoda couldn’t want him. He had two children of his own, brave children who were off saving the world while Zuko was fighting against everything he should have been. Children who knew exactly what they were doing and doing all the right things when Zuko was lost. His own father had devised an elaborate, impossible quest for him, just to ensure Zuko would never return. So, why would Hakoda want him? How could he?

Hakoda’s hand settled over his, bringing one of Zuko’s hands to his own piece of rope, to drag him from the depths of his thoughts.

“I do. I got attached,” he chuckled, “ if you haven’t noticed. But nothing has to change if you don’t want it to, Zuko. You could move into the crew cabin if you really wanted. La, we could even put Bato in charge here, take a fishing canoe, and go find your uncle together.” 

“You would do that?” Zuko mumbled, not daring to bring his eyes up until Hakoda tapped the underside of his chin. He raised his gaze, amber meeting the warm blue.

“You’d be missed here,” Hakoda resolved to hide just how much that would be true, not wanting Zuko’s decision to be influenced by anyone’s feelings but his own, “but if it’s what’s best for you, of course I would. Just think about what you want, and let me know. But you don’t have to decide anything now, in fact, I would prefer you didn't make any choices until I know all that’s out of your system.”

Zuko nodded, his expression mostly unreadable. He clasped the chief’s forearm and leaned his forehead heavily against the man’s chest. They stayed there until the music circle disbanded for the night, and Zuko was deeply asleep against him. Sighing, Hakoda gathered him into his arms and carried him back below deck to their cabin. He laid the furs over Zuko, not bothering to try and remove the boy’s parka or boots.

Unable to settle himself yet, he laid out several pieces of parchment on the desk and fresh ink for when Zuko woke in the morning to write his letter to his uncle. He imagined it would take several papers, not to mention several drafts to explain what had happened, with inevitable censoring for their own protection from the Dragon of the West of course, “Goodnight, Zuko.” He whispered.

The boy grumbled in his sleep, turning in Hakoda’s direction. His arm splayed out toward the bed and knocked the blankets aside. A fond smile brewing on his face, Hakoda sank onto his mattress. Before he could think better of it, he reached forward interlocking his fingers with Zuko’s as his own eyes drifted closed. 

Amber eyes fluttered open. For a moment unsure if he was dreaming the warmth in his hand or not, but the fingers he clumsily squeezed seemed real enough. A sleep-weighted smile curled the corners of his lips. He mumbled too low to be heard as he drifted back to sleep.

“Goodnight, Hakoda.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note in my evil book of scribbles that some might call an outline this chapter is called Drunk Adoption.  
> This was not how I'd thought this was going to happen when I started planning...but I'd love to know what people think.  
> 💚Chronically Yours💚  
> [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thiscryptidischronicallyyours)


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decisions and bread are made as book one is drawn to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, gals, and nonbinary pals,  
> The last chapter of book one...when did that happen? How did that happen? I'm only tearbending a little at the thought of releasing the last chapter of my first big fanfiction project into the world.  
> Okay, I'll stop being dramatic and let you get to the content since no one really reads the author notes anyway...

Hakoda woke to a quiet cabin, he groaned and turned immediately on his side toward the nest of furs. The empty bed of furs was cold to the touch. Letting him know that Zuko hadn’t been there for hours. Despite his state the night before, it hadn’t stopped the boy from rising with the sun. Hakoda sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and stretched before he swung his legs off the side of the bed.

Eyes traveling to his desk chair, he noted the absence of Zuko’s parka. Glad that his charge would at least be warm, even if he was avoiding him. Hakoda shook his head, crossing the room to fix the papers that Zuko abandoned in untidy piles across the workspace. He glanced over the beginnings of a letter to Zuko’s uncle, where most of the lines had been blotted out in dark slashes of ink. 

A doodled sketch of a snoring dragon curled around a ship took over the remaining space on the page, making Hakoda chuckle. He moved to pin the parchment to the wall but stopped short. His breath catching in his throat. There, tucked between Sokka and the drawing of their ship, was Zuko’s face staring back out at him. 

The ink still glistened on the contours of his scar, and his serious expression mirroring the ones on Sokka and Katara’s faces. A matching set. Like his picture belonged up there with them all along. 

He blinked away the sudden dampness building in the corners of his eyes. Throwing on his coat and boots, the cabin door slammed open behind him as he hurried toward the deck to find his _son_. 

Zuko was sitting at the bow, his legs hanging over the side of the ship. His face tipped upward to bask in the sun’s rays. The boy seemed taller on his perch. His skin less pale already from the long days out in the sun. Hakoda walked up behind him, wrapping steadying arms around his shoulders.

“I don’t know that I like you sitting up here,” Hakoda said gently. Zuko shrugged, leaning deeply in Hakoda’s hold.

“It’s not like I’m going to fall in, Hako-” The boy fell silent, “What do your kids call you? Your other kids I guess...” Hakoda snorted at the abrupt, awkwardly phrased question. He coaxed Zuko to turn toward him with a gentle nudge of his shoulders until the boy’s feet dangling back over the deck boards. A more preferable arrangement than over the waves.

“They call me Dad, but you can call me whatever you want when you’re ready. There’s no need to rush things. Spirits know we didn’t rush the rest of this,” Zuko bit his lip, nodding with a slight wince. A soft lurch of the ship sent Zuko tumbling off the railing, forward into Hakoda’s arms. The man chuckled when he caught his breath, holding Zuko tighter and closer for longer than he needed, “And that’s why I don’t like you sitting up there. Are you alright, fire ferret?” Zuko nodded, stiff against him but slowly wrapping his arms around Hakoda to complete the embrace and relaxed there for a fleeting moment, “How’s your head?” He asked when Zuko pulled away. The boy’s nose wrinkled, “Mmm, I wondered about that with the state of the letter you started earlier. Here, it helps.”

Hakoda passed over his waterskin. Zuko drank deeply, holding the skin when he was finished. Passive heat channeling into the remaining water. Sinking down to the deck boards, he twisted his fingers through his rope band.

“I didn’t know what to say in the letter,” he mumbled. 

“Well, I’d say I’d take you fishing while we think it through, but I’ve gathered the distinct impression you wouldn’t enjoy that,” Zuko shook his head quickly, “so I suppose we’ll have to raid the galley and see what we can find there instead.” The boy’s brow furrowed, “I find thinking is often best done while working with your hands, besides I thought you wanted to make yourself useful. Let’s go, cabin boy.” He held out a hand to help Zuko to pull him to his feet.

Zuko took the offered hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and walking at Hakoda’s side back below and through the narrow passage to the galley. He sat on the edge of the countertop while his new father rifled through the cupboards and cold storage for flour, salt, and everything else they needed for a simple bread, “Go find a bowl and a spoon.”

Sliding off the counter, Zuko wandered through the kitchen until he came across the requested items. He returned to Hakoda's side, leaning on his arm as he poured everything into the bowl and encumbering his progress, “I’m not sure you’re helping, prickliness.” Zuko shrugged. His head gave off a dull ache from each movement, “Remember this the next time you think drinking is a good idea, regardless of who is giving it to you.”

“I will,” he groaned. Hakoda chuckled softly. He wiped the flour off his hands before bringing them to Zuko’s temples and massaging them gently.

“Better?” Zuko nodded with a slight hum, “Alright, I’ll keep going, you mix.” Zuko obeyed, beginning to work the contents of the bowl into a dough, “Now, typically one begins a letter with a greeting of some kind. Dear Uncle might be a good place to start,” Zuko snorted. He abandoned the spoon as his arms grew increasingly sore and matched the dull ache in his head, working the stubborn mixture through his hands.

“I know how to write a letter, Hakoda.” He mumbled the man’s name, like it no longer belonged on his tongue. But he couldn’t quite make himself say any other word in its place.

“Mmm, is that so? Tell me the next part then,” the chief said, an eyebrow raised. Zuko blanched, doubling his force on the dough until Hakoda glanced down, “You’re overworking it and overthinking it, fire ferret.” 

He released the boy’s temples, helping him shape the dough into mostly even braided loaves. Zuko bit his lip, shaking his head, “Next you’ll say some sort of pleasantry, you’ve been apart for some time now and separated during less than peaceful times, so perhaps I hope this finds you safe and well.”

“He’s not going to think it’s me if I use pleasantries,” Zuko muttered toward the dough, “I’m not exactly pleasant.” Hakoda chuckled, the noise fading off under the boy’s stony stare. Offering a brief apology with a ruffle of his hair, “I guess I’ll say I hope he’s gotten the tea shop he always wanted or something.” 

Nodding, Hakoda carried the loaves to the oven, turning back to Zuko and asking for a heat boost. Grinning, Zuko complied. Glad to be sending flames from his newly healed fingertips, even if it was in a contained way. He turned back to Hakoda, making the man laugh, “That is quite the war paint you’re wearing.” Streaks of flour lined Zuko’s cheeks, “What next on your letter?” He prompted as he helped Zuko back to his feet.

Zuko’s deadpan comment about being alive made Hakoda let out an exasperated sigh. He passed the boy a rag to wipe his face clean from the flour. Taking the rag back from him to clear a spot or two Zuko missed on his first pass through as he answered, “One would hope that was obvious, prickliness, maybe you could say something like I’m sure you’ve been worried and I’m sorry for this letter not reaching you sooner, but you’re safe and well, then.”

They talked through the next several lines, straightening up the kitchen and straightening the thoughts in Zuko’s aching head. The scent of fresh bread wrapping around them in the warm galley. Leaning on one of his elbows, Zuko scribbled his finger through the loose flour on the worktop while they waited.

“Do I tell him I’m your son now?” He asked, voice small and hesitant in the kitchen. Hakoda crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Zuko’s shoulders, “Because I don’t have to, but-”

“It’s not a secret, Zuko. I would be proud to send an announcement to the Fire Lord himself.” Zuko’s neck snapped toward him, eyes wide with horror, “Alright, we might skip that one. But if you want to tell your uncle or anyone else, feel free.”

Zuko toyed with the band of rope on Hakoda’s wrist, where the man’s hands were clasped in front of his chest. 

“What about your-what are Sokka and Katara going to think?” He asked. The chief’s gaze flashed skyward for a fraction of a second as if he was asking the spirits for patience. Releasing Zuko, he spun him around slowly so he could comfortably meet the boy’s gaze. His hands rested on the boy’s shoulders. With a gentle squeeze, he offered,

“I imagine they’ll have questions, reservations, and perhaps some protests much like the rest of the crew did at first. Especially given your somewhat heated history. But they’ll come around just like everyone else did. You’re not unlovable, understand me? Far from it and quite the opposite.” 

After a moment of silence between them, Zuko stopped biting his pale lip.

“Especially when someone’s tied to me?” He offered weakly. Hakoda chuckled, holding Zuko close again, glad when the boy relaxed more readily into his hug. Proof he trusted him, even after all he’d been through.

“With any luck, it won’t come to that,” Hakoda opened his mouth to say something else, but before he managed to get the words out the ship lurched again. More than it should have for just the buffeting of rough waves against the hull of the ship. A loud thud sounded on the groaning boards above their heads. Zuko stumbled backward into the countertop, flour spreading through the air between them. He stared at Hakoda through the fog of white dust, amber eyes wide. 

Footfalls and muffled voices broke out on deck overhead, “La, that can’t be good. Stay here, fire ferret.” Zuko shook his head, “Would it make a difference whether I’m asking as your dad or ordering as your chief?” The boy shook his head again, making Hakoda sigh, “I didn’t think so, alright, just be careful,” he ordered. Zuko swallowed the tight lump building in his throat as he nodded. 

The door to the galley swung open with a bang and trumpeting quack of a turtleduck. Videk stood in the doorway, chest heaving and Noren squirming wildly in his arms. He released the turtleduck, his thin frame doubling over. He wheezed and inhaled a heavy cloud of flour. Hakoda rolled his eyes, avoided Noren’s beeline path for Zuko, and thumped the young crewman on the back as he let out a string of hacking coughs.

Between wheezing breaths, he finally managed to get out.

“Chief, I think you’re going to want to be on deck.” Hakoda rubbed his temples, leaving Videk panting in the doorway. Zuko scooped up Noren, deposited the little turtleduckling on his shoulder, and steadied him with one hand as he raced after him out the door and through the passageway. 

His heart pounded in his chest in time with the thudding of his boots on wooden boards, the muscles in his neck tight against the collar of his parka. Half-stumbling into Hakoda when the man stopped short at the deck opening, Zuko squeezed his eyes shut against the blinding sun that made his headache spike and a queasy sensation crawl in the back of his throat. 

But far too exposed and too vulnerable to keep his eyes closed any longer, Zuko forced them open to see a blurry, but familiar mass of white fur and four figures, all equally familiar, sliding to the deck from the white creature’s back. His hammering heart sputtered to a stop with the thuds of their footsteps on the ship. Voices called out, but all the words seemed muffled in his ears and far away.

Even more so, when before Zuko could stop himself, he turned and bolted. 

_To be continued...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I couldn't give them just one whole chapter of peace post-adoption, now could I?
> 
> Welp, that's all folks. See you in Book Two: The Ties That Bind! (I hope to be starting that project very soon)  
> Thanks to everyone who's come along on the journey with me (wherever or whenever you may have joined), reading, commenting, writing, and even drawing along the way. I'm so grateful for everyone's enthusiastic interactions and enjoyments, on this odd and out-of-control fic.  
> Be sure to check out [My Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thiscryptidischronicallyyours)  
> in the meantime where I'll be putting up some periodic bonus material and maybe some teasers! TheReviewGuest also graced us with Zuko and Dadkoda fanart, so go check it out there!
> 
> _And I'm not saying that more comments will get me to start the next installment any sooner, but I'm just saying it can't hurt _😉_  
>  💚 Chronically Yours 💚_

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Zuko, a turtleduck and a box](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28798683) by [fruitcocktailSamurai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitcocktailSamurai/pseuds/fruitcocktailSamurai)
  * [Picture of Your Son](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266998) by [paintedbluerose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedbluerose/pseuds/paintedbluerose)




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